Cauldrons Aflame
by J.S. Sumner
Summary: Well, it's a seductive romance involving our favorite Potions master. Do you really want to waste your time reading the summary! SSOC(Female) Please RR
1. The Spark that Ignited the Flame

Disclaimer: All familiar characters and themes belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter: 1 **(Revised)**

**Cauldrons Aflame** By: J.S. Sumner

Thunder roared furiously outside, while spontaneous streaks of lightning illuminated the cryptic night sky. In the distance, a solitaire shadow emerged from the Dark Forest. It staggered across the vast land of smog and dampened soil, and then up the massive stone steps that led to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Professor Snape irritably flung open the double doors and swooped inside the Entrance Hall, just in time to miss the rain.

The castle appeared to be deserted - much to his relief. He had already missed the feast, as well as the sorting ceremony. A grateful smile crawled across his lips. With the students in their dormitories and teachers in their chambers, he was free to maneuver about the castle without having to explain the large, bloody gash that spanned across his chest and abdomen. And, with the wound's mending charm rapidly wearing off, he had very little time to spare. He applied a second charm to slow the bleeding, and then ascended the steps to the infirmary.

Standing just outside the door, Severus took a moment to collect his thoughts. He remembered that an assistant had been chartered for Madam Pomfrey over the summer, and that he was to, as instructed by Dumbledore, be civil towards the new witch. Since Voldemort's second rise to power, Albus had thought it wise to employ extra help, as well as double the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Severus could only hope that, for the school's sake, the girl was skilled enough to fill the position; Merlin knows they hadn't much luck with new staff additions.

Wrapping his fingers around the brass door handle, he drew in a deep, pain-filled breath and then gave it a light tug.

The room was calm, quiet, save the crackling fire and the melodic sound of glass vials chiming together. Peering in further, his attention was drawn to a young woman knelt with her back towards him. He watched in silence as she fumbled with several medicine bottles in an effort to organize an old, battered cabinet that sat just feet away.

Leaning against the archway, Severus folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat to allure her attention. "I need to see Madam Pomfrey at once."

The young woman started and dropped the vials that she held. Due to precaution and a prior charm, they did not shatter when they hit the floor. Scrambling to her feet, she spun around and greeted him with a pair of bright, blue eyes and a comely smile. Severus's gaze rose and fell from her wavy, shoulder-length brown hair to her slender, shapely body. The girl was wearing muggle attire, much to his surprise; a pair of denim-threaded jeans and snug black sweater contoured a very attractive physique indeed.

"I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey is out. She received an urgent owl and left just a few hours ago." Her voice was soft and dainty. As she spoke, Severus could not help but stare, delighted in the way her lips carefully formed each word.

"I see. You must be Miss Bell, then? I hadn't quite expected you to be so young and inexperienced. No matter, I suppose I can talk you through the procedure." With that, he swept past her.

Claira raised a steep, insulted brow at the man's prudence. Who was he to waltz in and pass judgment? For his information, she had spent six years of study at the American Institute for Medical Wizardry!

"Professor Snape, is it?" The majority of the staff had already warned her about a shrewd, discourteous wizard in black robes; she could only assume it was he. "I don't pretend to know everything, but I have learned enough to recognize that your injuries were caused by a male Graphorn." She paused to observe the abrasions on his hands. "And possibly a female as well."

It was now his turn to raise a brow. She was correct. He had incurred his injuries whilst collecting Graphorn eggs, an extremely scarce, yet very powerful ingredient.

"Now, if you'll please Professor, sit down. Those wounds require immediate attention." She retrieved a cart and headed for the medicine room.

Severus took a mental note of her smile; even as the girl was being a bossy, little know-it-all, her face remained warm and friendly.


	2. First Impressions

Chapter: 2 **(Revised)**

When Claira emerged from the storage room with the proper remedies, she glanced around the room and found Professor Snape lounging on one of the beds, acting as if the large gash across his chest was nothing more than a simple paper cut. He had already removed his cloak and torn vest, which he folded and set on the nightstand. She thought it odd that he would even go through the trouble but, as a stranger, she could only assume that he was an odd person.

Claira approached him, and watched as he propped himself up and attempted to unclasp the remaining buttons on his shirt. She could tell that he was in pain, however trying his best to conceal it. She grinned. It was a classic case of ego-itis. Stopping his hands, she gently turned them over and examined the many wounds that covered his palms and wrists. She then pealed aside a shredded piece of fabric from his shirt and assessed his other injuries. They were not fatal.

Her eyes met his. "I think I'll start with your hands, since they have already become infected."

She scooped up a cloth and began applying a strong cleansing solution.

Her small, feminine hands were fast and efficient. Within minutes, his wounds were treated with the appropriate antidote and dressed in quick-healing bandages. At the very least, Severus was impressed. The girl was talented. And, her knowledge proceeded her age, which he thought to be about twenty-three, possibly twenty-four. Perhaps she would make a fair mediwitch after all.

Her eyes shifted to his and he saw that her lips had formed a soft, timid smile.

"I need to remove this, Professor." Her delicate fingers reached for the buttons on his shirt and began to undue them.

Claira could feel his heavy, penetrating eyes upon her. The heat of his stare burned her face and skin. Distracted, she lifted her gaze. Merlin! She drew in a sharp breath. Claira had never seen such black, dominant eyes as his before; they were frightening, yet intriguing at the same time.

She quickly averted her eyes and forced them to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Don't worry, I've done this before," she told him in a hushed voice.

"Cured a Graphorn wound… or unbuttoned a man's shirt?" He took great pleasure in watching her cheeks turn a bright, scarlet red. The hint of flirtation in his voice did not go unnoticed, by either.

"Well, for your information, I have done both. I've had to remove several patients' clothing, thank you." She wasn't about to let him intimidate her.

He narrowed his eyes. "Fascinating, Miss Bell. May I ask then, why you are blushing?"

Claira could feel her ears burn in embarrassment. The man was ruthless!

"I would prefer it if you called me Claira. And if you think I'm blushing now, just wait until I have to unfasten your trousers!" She witnessed a slight smirk form at the corner of his mouth and smiled, relieved that he did not retort.

Unclasping the final button, Claira gently pushed the parted fabric over his shoulders and then down the full length of his arms. He was pale and the ebony hair on his torso did little to hide his scars, but she admired the masculine contours of his chest and forearms. Claira could not deny her physical attraction towards him. She had felt it the moment she saw him standing in the doorway. Everything about him, from his charcoal eyes to his long, black robes, was dark and mysterious. Besides that, the man was quite handsome, in her opinion. However, his attitude could use a bit of tweaking.

Pushing her thoughts aside, she dabbed a fresh cloth in her cleansing bowl and began to wipe away the dried blood.

Severus remained silent while Claira brushed her warm hands across his cold skin. He found it difficult to keep his eyes from closing at the soft sensations they wrought. It had been quite some time since he last had any physical contact with anyone, and it felt… good. Madam Pomfrey would never have taken such care; her philosophy was to cause as much torture to her patients as possible, in order to prevent reoccurring visits. It would take a serious matter to draw her away from Hogwarts, which was why he almost felt guilty for enjoying her absence. Almost.

His thoughts abruptly ended when Claira's hands moved to the front of his trousers.

"I'm afraid I've put it off long enough," she whispered.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp and then again with the zipper. She was careful not to brush her hands against anything she wasn't supposed to but, by doing so, she made the situation much more awkward than it had to be.

Severus watched her in amusement.


	3. Flirting?

Chapter: 3 **(Revised)**

Had anyone entered the infirmary at that precise moment, they would have stumbled upon a very incriminating scene indeed. Severus sat inclined upon the edge of the bed, legs spread, while Claira knelt between them, tugging and pulling vigorously on his crotch to free his zipper from a snagged button on his underpants. Rumors of their erotic escapades would have been etched on the marble walls for centuries….

"I thought you said you've done this before." Severus smirked, thoroughly enjoying her distress.

"I have but, keep in mind, the other patient was about seventy-five years old! As you can imagine, I took no pleasure in removing his clothes," Claira replied with a chuckle. She was unable to look him straight in the eyes, as she was beyond embarrassment at this point. She was relieved, however, to see that the wound only extended to just below his navel; she would not have to take off his trousers.

"Ah, I see. So am I to believe you _are_ taking pleasure in the removal of mine? If so, then I must say - "

"Please don't!" Claira begged. It had just been made apparent to her that her words would have to be chosen more carefully around this man. She could not resist a smile at his audacity though.

Dipping her cloth in the bowl once more, she continued with her cleaning.

"I must thank you, Professor... for seizing every opportunity you have tonight to embarrass me."

Claira worked throughout the next half hour mending the gash and applying a thick, pasty ointment. Just as she was rounding the last foot of bandage around the Professor's waist, Madam Pomfrey arrived, eyes darkened and weary. At the sight of them, she marched over with a look of _'What has he done now?'_ upon her face.

"What happened?" she asked, while lifting the bandages to make sure the dressings had been done correctly.

"Graphorn attack," Claira answered. She stood and placed all the loose materials back onto the medicine trolley.

"Well, you'll have to remain over night, Severus; the antitoxins will wear off in a few hours and need to be reapplied." Madam Pomfrey then turned to her assistant. "I will take over from here, Claira, thank you. Go get some rest - we'll most likely be swamped with first years in the morning."

"I'm fine, really." Claira knew that she would not be able to sleep, not on her first night at Hogwarts, anyway.

"I insist, dear, now off with you!" She shooed her away with the wave of her hands.

Claira had no choice but to obey. On her way out the door, she overheard Professor Snape assert:

"Have one of the house elves bring me a dish from the kitchen, Poppy. If I am bound to this mattress - which is quite uncomfortable, I must say - I would rather it be on a full stomach."

"I think not, Professor. You should have thought about that before you got yourself mauled! Let this be a lesson to you, if nothing else."

Severus lay awake on his stony cot, staring at the blank ceiling and cursing Madam Pomfrey for depriving him of every necessity he had requested. One bloody ration, was that too much to ask? Folding his hands behind his neck, he breathed out a deep groan of boredom. Only one hour had passed, and already he was growing restless. _This is absurd_, he thought. He could be lying in his own bed. So what if his wounds required redressing? Poppy could have sent Claira down to his chambers with the supplies…. even better if she had come to him wearing a short, silk teddy; the girl was sporting a rather exquisite body beneath those Muggle clothes of hers. And, given the opportunity, he could have provided her with a new affection to treat - with her thighs, that is.

A wicked grin spread across Severus's sallow face; however, it dissipated when he heard the infirmary door creak open. He slipped his hand beneath the pillow and gripped his wand in preparation for the intruder - it was well past midnight, after all. Glaring at the entrance, he watched as a small figure poked its head inside. It was Claira, looking quite mischievous.

"Is she gone?" she whispered.

Severus nodded his head.

Claira stepped inside. She had both hands tucked behind her back and a peculiar glint in her eye that spoke trouble. She was concealing something, Severus determined. As she approached, he withdrew his wand and held it at his side beneath the blanket. Where exactly had Albus found this chit, anyway? For all he knew, she could have been a spy - or an assassin, sent by Voldemort as punishment for his betrayal.

Shifting his weight, he sat up and met her gaze. There was something calming in her eyes, something kind, which caused him to hesitate hexing her.

He allowed Claira the opportunity to stand next to his bed, and when she revealed the generous plate of food that she had hidden behind her back, Severus revoked his previous accusations, and also the tight grip he had on his wand. He then accepted the dish and arched his brow.

"Tisk tisk, Miss Bell, already undermining authority, are we? Surely you have considered the repercussions? Why, if Poppy were to find out you - " Severus silenced himself at the sound of second door opening.

Madam Pomfrey whisked inside, looking particularly vexed with her unkempt hair and her eyes swollen from lack of sleep.

Severus groaned and shoved the platter beneath his blanket.

" I thought I heard voices in here - Claira, I specifically remember ordering you to rest." Poppy's narrowed eyes swept over her with suspicion. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Claira felt as though she were back in school, and feared that Madam Pomfrey might whip out a ruler and smack her on the wrist.

" I… erm… couldn't sleep, so I thought I might check to make sure the Professor's bandages hadn't loosened - they're just fine…tight…good. Please excuse me."

Claira fled from the scene, not wanting to be around if the woman discovered her smuggled booty.


	4. Dinner Pleasantries

Chapter: 4 **(Revised)**

The next morning, Severus opened his eyes to a sharp ray of light, cast by the morning sun. A few choice slurs escaped his lips, as he was not accustomed to such illumination; his sleeping quarters were void of windows. Upon the final curse that rolled off his tongue, he felt a tight, painful squeeze around his midsection. He grunted and darted his eyes at Madam Pomfrey, who was bent over him and in the process of striping his bandages. She glared down at him. Her temper soon faded, however, as the last stretch of binding was removed. Much to her satisfaction, and his own, the wounds were healed.

Severus spent the next few minutes listening to Poppy ramble on about how wonderful it was to finally have some decent help - not that he did not agree, he just didn't want to waste his time talking about it.

He seized the first opportunity he had to splice into her speech. "Does this mean I am free to go, warden?"

She shot him a rather nasty scowl. "I suppose, but keep out of trouble - you are costing this school a fortune in medical supplies!"

Just then, Claira stumbled in. Her lids were droopy and she had dark circles around her eyes. As predicted, she had not slept a wink that night. Madam Pomfrey glanced up, shook her head and then tossed Claira a vial of perk-up potion from her pocket.

Claira guzzled it down and, afterwards, flashed her a grateful smile. The potion had vanquished all her symptoms of fatigue and boosted her energy level to that of a normal, functioning human being. Her attention was soon drawn to Professor Snape, who sat at the edge of his bed, with both hands busy tugging on his large boots. His chest was still handsomely bare and his hair was a heap of black, tangled mess - she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud.

As he stood, her eyes dropped to his abdomen, where the large, bloody gash had been. Acting on impulse, Claira approached him and ran her hands across his midsection, inspecting her work. His muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, which startled her back to consciousness. She lifted her eyes to his and they fell into an intense, awkward stare.

Claira was the first to break contact. She lowered her hands and took a step back.

"Looks like the medicine did its job," she managed to murmur, while admiring the intricate tile patterns on the floor.

"Indeed, it has. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do and very little time to do it in."

Snatching up a clean shirt that was brought in by one of the house elves, Severus tossed it on, slipped into his cloak and then swooped out the door.

When he reached the privacy of his chambers, he retrieved a new set of robes and headed for the bathroom. Inside, he stood beneath the shower's faucet and allowed the hot, steamy water to run through his knotted hair and down his face. His heart beat faster than the wings of a snitch and his skin burned in all the places where Claira's fingers had been. He let out a long, deep growl. He was both surprised and angered by his reaction to her touch. As a man who thrived on control, Severus did not like the strange effects she had on him one bit. Cursing through clenched teeth, he forced the knobs in the opposite direction.

By the end of the day, Claira was truly exhausted. The better part of it had been spent curing at least a dozen first years of boils. The hospital had also received three broomstick injuries and one transfiguration mishap. Madam Pomfrey was still sawing off the girl's horns, when Claira made her way down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Upon her arrival, she discovered that the feast had already begun. The room was noisy, crowded and the tables were overflowing with platters of delicious-looking food. Drawing as little attention to herself as possible, Claira took her place at the far end of the staff table, next to the librarian, Madam Pince. She served herself a small ration from each of the surrounding platters and attacked it with her fork, famished by the day's events.

Had anyone been paying close attention to the High Table that evening, they would have noticed Professor Snape's eyes drifting towards the bonny brunette much too often to be considered normal.

Severus found her utterly fascinating, her feeding habits, the way her tulip pink tongue licked her lips after each sensual bite….

Engaged in an unwavering stare, he watched as she dipped a large, round cherry into a bowl of melted chocolate. The dark cream dripped from the cherry's long, slender stem along its enticing journey to her mouth. With the slow swirl of her tongue, she stole a taste. Good Merlin! Severus let out a low groan and adjusted his legs to accommodate the growing interest in his trousers, while keeping a close eye on the fruit grazing across her lips. Her mouth parted in welcome, lips kissing the surface of the chocolate as she glided the cherry inside….

"I beg your pardon, Professor."

"Professor Snape."

"PROFESSOR SNAPE!!!"

"WHAT IS IT?" Severus snapped, whirling about to glare 'Professor Annoying' in the face. His name was Gregory Moore, the temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The man was a bloody nuisance, always pestering him for one duncical reason or another.

"Erm, sorry to bother you, but I… well, I was just wondering if you were about to eat that last crumb cake? If not, then I think I might give it a go." He pointed to a single square pastry that sat on a platter between them.

"Take the damn thing," Severus hissed, shoving the plate at him. It flipped over, which sent the cake tumbling down the table towards Hagrid; who in turn, picked it up and ate it.

Severus's eyes tore back across the table to Claira - just in time to watch her drop the cherry's stem onto her napkin. If looks could kill, Professor Moore would have been nothing more than a heap of ashes beneath Severus's murderous glare.

Claira, feeling stuffed from her savory meal, stood to leave. She brushed the crumbs away from her blouse and plucked off bits of food as she ventured towards the double doors. Her thoughts were of the chocolate splotch on her breast pocket, when she stumbled over something in the aisle. She let out a small yelp and fell to her knees. Sweeping her hair out of her eyes, Claira glanced up and found herself face to snout with a large, black dog.

For the past two terms, Dumbledore had allowed Sirius Black to take up residence at the castle under the guise of his animigus; everyone else knew him as Padfoot, the school's guard dog. No one was aware of his true identity, save Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and Professor Snape - who, upon watching Claira tumble over the scoundrel, saw it fit to offer her his hand of assistance.

Claira was surprised, and also relieved, to discover that the beastly canine had a gentle disposition. He bowed his head in a polite manner and then nudged her cheek with his nose, as if to apologize for dashing in front of her. She smiled back at him and patted his head in greeting. Claira had always had a soft spot for furry animals.

"You will remember to wash after handling that filthy mutt, won't you?" Came a low, silky voice from behind her.

Claira chuckled and pulled the dog closer.

"You're not a filthy mutt, are you? No, you're not." She squeezed his face between her hands and rubbed his ears. "You're a good boy - yes, you are. You're a cute little doggie!"

Severus snorted in disgust and stepped around them. As if the infant talk was not enough to churn his stomach, the girl had to go and finish the sickening display of affection off with a kiss on the mongrel's snout.

Padfoot looked up at him while he passed, and barred his teeth, which disturbingly resembled a twisted, rotted tooth smile.


	5. Nightly Entertainment

Chapter: 5

Deep within the bowels of the castle, amidst a large laboratory of bubbling cauldrons and potion-filled vials, there echoed a loud, agitated voice.

"Damn!" Severus growled, as his cauldron began to hiss and boil over. It was the second batch he had muddled that night. With a wave of his wand, he sent the botched pot soaring through the air, where it landed with a loud clatter in the sink. On its way down, the thick, brown liquid had splattered against the wall, the ceiling and the floor. It would require at least two hours worth of scrubbing. Staring at the mess, he could think of no better punishment for the next little prat that tapped on his nerves. A wicked grin crept across his lips at that thought. He already had someone in mind, and if Potter were not careful, he would be cleaning that sticky slosh up with the end of his silly little firebolt broom.

Deciding to call it a night, Severus dimmed the lights and made for his private chambers. He was too distracted by the evening's events to concentrate on potions; brewing a cup of tea would have proven to be an impossible feat at that stage.

Once in his study, he stripped off his outer robes, slumped into his armchair by the fire, and sighed. The scent of Claira's perfume still lingered beneath his nostrils, and the memory of her salacious behavior at the feast weighed heavy on his mind. He had never been so distracted by a female before, never so attracted upon a first meeting that he could think of nothing but the chance to be near her again. He was a confirmed bachelor, married only to solitude and self-indulgence. It was a life-long philosophy, one he preferred to abide by, Severus reminded himself, before bringing a fresh bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey to his lips.

Three quarters empty and three sheets to the wind, he made a personal vow to himself - to never to go that long without sex again.

Several weeks had passed. Severus spent most of his free time in the dungeons, working on a clandestine potion for the Ministry of Magic. It had been two years since the Dark Lord's second rise to power, and almost one since Voldemort had discovered him to be a double agent. For the last eight months, the committee had been commissioning defensive draughts, for further protection against Death Eater attacks. Now, with the Graphorn eggs added as the final ingredient, Severus's ingenious brew was just days away from completion.

Claira, in the mean time, had found a friend. Padfoot, the large black dog, had taken a strong liking to her, and would often escort her to and from the infirmary, as well as any other place she needed to go. Upon occasion, when Madam Pomfrey retired to her rooms, Claira would allow Padfoot into the hospital, where she would spend hours upon end pampering and petting him; she had a strange feeling that he understood more than he let on when she spoke to him.

One particular lonesome night, when Madam Pomfrey had assigned her night duty, Claira snuck him into the ward. Perched upon the windowsill, with Padfoot's head rested upon her knee, she poured her heart out to him, confessing every secret and fear she possessed.

In just a short period of two weeks, Sirius had fallen madly in love with the girl. She was kind, caring, affectionate, and beautiful -

_"And thinks you're a dog, you fool!"_ a little voice inside his head barked, as he made way back to his chamber one evening.

Treading a path to a small, hidden room on the third floor, Sirius came to a halt in the corridor and turned to face a suit of armor. Certain that he was alone, he barked three times, and the statue gave way to a short tunnel lit by a single torch; he followed it to a shabby, wooden door. Standing up on his hind legs, he nosed the latch open and slipped through.

Inside his chamber, Sirius transformed back into his original form and sank wearily onto his bed. His solemn eyes stared at the ceiling, while his dirty fingers strummed through his long, black hair. He cursed himself for allowing his mind to become so consumed with Claira. He had not been making his regular journeys to Hogsmeade, as he should. And he hadn't even been to see his godson Harry in a while; he used to visit him every afternoon! What was it about her that made him act so irresponsibly? Perhaps it was her gorgeous blue eyes. Or was it her soft, soothing voice? No, it was her sublime body, her perfectly rounded breasts and long, slender legs. She always smelt so damn delicious, and he bet she tasted just as sweet.

Sirius closed his eyes and let his mind drown in a sea of fantasies. He imagined that Claira was in his room, lying naked beside him on his bed. He thought of all the things he would do to her, if only it were so. God, how he wanted to feel her body, tiny and warm, beneath his; to hear her moans and cries of pleasure in his ear, as he made passionate love to her.

Images of sex aroused his primordial urges, as his hand crept down the length of his torso to the clasp of his trousers. With his fingers trembling, he unfastened it, and carefully glided the zipper down. He slipped his hand beneath the thin fabric of his boxer shorts and groaned. His member was already engorged and throbbing for attention. Imagining his hand to be Claira's, he began to gently tease and stroke it, while speaking her name in a cluster of whispers.

_"For Merlin's sake, this is the third night in a row! Give it a rest already,"_ taunted his inner voice.

Sirius snorted at himself in disgust. He had gone fifteen years without a woman, or even an erection for that matter - Azkaban had many alternative ways of torturing its prisoners, aside from sucking one's will to live. Now, he could not seem to last a single day, nor night, if Claira so much as cooed at him.

He did not need the heightened perception of a dog's snout in order to recognize the scent of trouble. It fumed from his behavior and compulsive thoughts. And yet, he could not control himself.

Tossing on an old, faded pair of blue jeans and a white blouse, Claira tore out of her chambers and flew down the first flight of stairs like a bat out of hell. She had overslept, and feared Madam Pomfrey would be furious with her. In an attempt to save time, she tried to hop over the last four steps, but tripped over her own feet. She went tumbling down them instead, and landed face first on the carpet.

Peeling herself off the floor, she ran the rest of the way, gasping for air as she barreled through the infirmary door.

"You are late, Claira," Madam Pomfrey huffed, while hovering over a young girl covered from head to toe with small, yellow bumps.

"I am sorry, Poppy. It won't happen again," Claira replied. "Is that what I think it is?"

Poppy nodded. "Trechonitis."

Trechonitis was a very rare, yet highly contagious disease that caused a nasty irritation to form on the skin. Anti-itching creams, as well as antibiotics, must be applied hourly; it was much easier to prevent, than it was to treat.'

She stood and handed Claira a tiny vial of green liquid.

"The entire school will need to be treated, and you are holding the last dose of vaccine we have." She motioned for her to drink it. "Did you study alchemy at the Institute? "

"Of course! It was a requirement for my apprenticeship at Saint Mungo's. And, if it's any consolation, I passed with top marks!" However, Claira failed to reveal that it was only a six-month course. She earned her degree for administering the medicine - not brewing it.

"Good, then you can work with Professor Snape on the draught. He will need assistance if we are to dispense the vaccine in time. Please, Claira, go and inform him of the situation. I believe he is holding his classes in dungeon three this week. Do you need a map, dear?"

Madam Pomfrey was never more grateful to have an aide. Working with Severus Snape was no cup of tea; he could be very _difficult_ at times. She had done it once before - and it was a frightful experience that she did not care to repeat.

"Perhaps not - let me see." Claira walked over to the door and cracked it open. Padfoot sat just on the other side of it, tail in full swing. "No thanks, Poppy. I have my trusty steed to lead the way!"


	6. Enter the Dungeons

Chapter: 6 **(revised)**

The dungeons weren't quite as dreary as Claira had anticipated. Although it was damp and cold, the tunnels were large and well lit. Decorating the walls were beautiful tapestries, carved stone statues and gorgeous antique paintings that either moved or bowed as she passed by. Claira could not help but feel as if she were in a museum, rather than a dingy, old dungeon.

She followed Padfoot through the winding passageways, until they ended their journey in front of a large oak door. It was here that he left her, nudging her hand gently with his nose before galloping away. Staring at the massive archway, Claira made to tug on the door handle, but hesitated when she heard Professor Snape's voice.

"LONGBOTTOM! Drop one more lacewing into that cauldron and you'll be fishing it out with your teeth!"

Claira thought he sounded rather angry, or frustrated, it was hard to tell; his deep, silky voice was extremely distracting, intoxicating even. For several minutes, she just stood there, debating whether or not she should interrupt his class. It was rude to disturb a lesson, after all - she had been taught that during her own school days.

'_This is silly,'_ Claira told herself. She grabbed the handle and gave it a pull.

She was no longer a shy schoolgirl, and Professor Snape certainly was not her teacher. He was her colleague - he was also the castle's only hope of preventing the spread of the disease.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by shuffling feet and overturned cauldrons. The lesson had endedPerhaps she had stood outside the door a bit longer than she had intended to.

**Meanwhile, on the other side of the room….**

Scribbling down a large zero next to Neville Longbottom's name, Severus rolled up his parchment with a snap, and then stalked down the aisle towards his desk. The lack of talent and intelligence amongst the students was beginning to wear on his nerves. Often he wondered why he even bothered at all. But the answer to that was Albus Dumbledore. Severus continued teaching because of the deep sense of obligation and duty he felt towards the aged and wise wizard. Perhaps his debt had long since been repaid; sixteen years was certainly adequate punishment for his crimes. Then again…

As he rounded the front row of mucky tables and goo-splattered stools, a lone figure standing near the classroom entrance caught the corner of his eye. He immediately spun on his heel to get a better view. It was somewhat customary to have all the students scurry out of his classroom like a pack of fleeting rats. He was curious to identify the present slacker. A deduction of House points was sure to ensue.

It was then that his gaze fell over the slender, desirable frame of Hogwarts' newest staff addition, Claira Bell - correction, _Miss. _Claira Bell. Not to be mistaken with _Mrs._ Claira Bell, which would dub her strictly forbidden. No, this chit was surprisingly single and dangerously appealing to his bachelor gaze.

His indifference to companionship did not stop him from appreciating an attractive female when he saw one.

A small, innocent smile passed over her unclaimed lips. It was a smile that had him muttering curses beneath his breath. The girl had grown more beautiful since he had first laid eyes upon her. And he did not mind Muggle clothing nearly as much as he had in the past. In fact, he was quite fond of the way they looked on her - especially the ones that she had worn that day. Her white, cotton blouse was thin and just transparent enough to reveal the faint outline of her bra. As he approached her, the pattern became more visible. He could not help but trace the motif with his eyes; it was lacey and had some sort of floral design encompassing the nipple...

"Good morning, Professor. I hate to bother you, but it appears that the school is in a bit of a pickle. One of the students has contracted a rather severe case of trechonitis. So far, she is the only one showing symptoms, but we can't be sure…"

"Ah, let me guess, Madam Pomfrey needs me to whip up a few hundred vials of the vaccine in order to immunize the entire school by tomorrow evening?" He glared down at her; this was not the first time he had been burdened with such a request.

"Erm, yes, preferably by noon." She tried to make light of it by smiling sweetly, but to no avail.

He wore a scowl. "Is the woman not aware of the amount of time involved? Does she not know how many hours must be spent on the preparation of ingredients? I am not even certain that I have enough supplies in my stores to accommodate the situation."

"Of course she is! Which is why she sent me - to help." Claira suddenly regretted telling Madam Pomfrey that she had studied alchemy at the Institute; compared with Professor Snape, she knew very little on the matter.

Severus crossed his arms and studied her with a look of skepticism. "Is that so? Tell me, how much experience do you have with this particular potion?"

"Well... none, I suppose."

His eyes narrowed.

"But I am a fast learner," she added quickly. "And I'm certain that I could be of some assistance to you."

Under normal circumstances, Severus would have refused such an offer; he did not take well to partnership. But, in a moment, somewhere between drinking in the soft glow of her eyes and the pout of her full lips, his tongue had responded faster than his brain. He was accepting her proposal before he could think up a plausible excuse not to.

"Very well. Meet me in my laboratory after dinner." His brow curved into an arch of superiority. "And be prepared to spend the better part of the night there."

It sounded more like a long, rumbling growl rather than instructions, Claira thought, but she nodded just the same and followed Professor Snape, as he showed her the route to his private laboratory.

Severus had been pacing the cold, stone floor of his laboratory for nearly an hour. Needless to say, his patience was wearing thin. One thing he never could tolerate was tardiness. He had always made a special point to be on time, and he expected no less in return.

Unable to bear the wait any longer, Severus tossed his cloak over his shoulders and stormed out of the dungeons.

He did not stop until he reached Claira's chambers, which were located on the third floor of the castle. Throwing his head back to rid his face of a wild strand of hair, he pounded on the oak door.

There was no response.

He repeated the knock until his knuckles burned.

The latch finally turned.

The door swung open.

Severus was not prepared for the vision that lay on the opposite side of the threshold. Claira stood beneath the archway, dripping wet, wearing nothing but a crumpled towel and a worried expression on her face. The towel did little to hide her nudity, and for this he was grateful. His eyes appraised her form; they took in her bare, feminine shoulders and then fell to admire the milky white curves of her thighs. Sweet Merlin! The girl was bewitching to behold. He was captivated by the droplets of water that trickled down the exposed surface of her skin. Just above the two large mounds of her breasts, her cleavage held a soft waterfall that flowed freely into the hidden crevices of her bosom. His fingers had the sudden urge to strip away the towel and chase after it - although he would rather have made pursuit with his tongue.

'_Say something, you idiot!'_ shouted a voice in his head.

As if awakening from a trance, Severus snapped his head up. He became all too aware of the awkward silence and the fact that he had been staring at the girl for a prolonged period of time. He had better come up with something clever to say, he thought to himself.

"You, erm, were supposed to meet me in my laboratory."

It was all he could muster. What the devil was wrong with him? He had seen plenty of naked women in his lifetime. How was this one any different? What was worse, the girl wasn't even fully exposed, for Merlin's sake!

"I - I'm terribly sorry, Professor. I didn't realize it was so late. Here, just let me throw on some clothes..."

She scrambled to her bed where she had laid out her evening attire.

Severus leant a relaxed shoulder against the doorframe. Despite his casual appearance, his pulse was racing faster than a hippogriff in flight. And there was a distinct stir in his trousers as he watched Claira pick up a pair of black, lace panties.

"Do you mind closing the door, please? " she called to him over her shoulder.

Severus slipped further into the room and clicked the door shut, intent on watching the spectacle from a more accommodating view. Snatching up the outer hem of his robes, he folded his arms across his chest so that his cloak masked his very hard, very prominent arousal. His eyes feasted on Claira's body in anticipation, tracing her hands' precise movements as she reached to unwrap the towel about her.

It was then that she whirled around and let out a loud gasp.

Her eyes resembled saucers. "Professor Snape! I meant for you to close it _on your way out!_ What are you - I mean - were you just going to stand there and watch me dress?"

Refusing to be held accountable for his action, he grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "The thought had crossed my mind. You were not specific with your orders, Miss Bell."

"Well then, let me clarify it for you - GET OUT!" she shouted, half angry and half laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Severus waited outside in the corridor, exhibiting far more patience now than he had previously in his laboratory. After a few minutes, Claira emerged fully clothed and with a blush to match her rosy red lips. Unable to think of an appropriate comment, he chose to remain silent and ushered her to the dungeons.


	7. The Laboratory

Chapter: 7 **(Revised)**

Their footsteps echoed down the dim corridors; it was the only sound made between the two. Often, Severus' gaze swept towards the shadows, and his eyes would catch a glimpse of black fur darting across the way. They were being followed. _Filthy mongrel, _he thought to himself, as he and Claira reached the Dungeon's entrance. It was quite obvious that Sirius had an unnatural obsession with the girl. He had been meaning to discuss Black's odd behavior with Dumbledore; the next Order meeting would provide the perfect opportunity to do so.

Opening the door for Claira, Severus led her through the dark tunnels and into the light of his laboratory.

Claira's eyes took in her surroundings. Shelves and cabinets covered every wall; on them, lay dozens of flasks and bottles filled with strange contents, and slimy looking liquids. Several large, pewter cauldrons had already been brought to a boil. The overall atmosphere of the chamber reminded her of an evil scientist's lair, like the ones portrayed in black and white Muggle movies; she half expected a small hunchback creature to pop out and start calling Professor Snape 'master'. Oh wait, she chuckled to herself, that was going to be her role tonight!

Placing a rather sharp knife in her hand, Severus directed her towards a small, wooden table piled high with ingredients that needed to be skinned, sliced, chopped and peeled. Claira's mouth dropped open at the sight of her workload. Did he really expect her to get all of this done by morning?It was then that Professor Snape conjured a second stool and sat down beside her; he too had a knife and was already in the process of skinning a shrivelfig. Breathing a sigh of relief, Claira grabbed a handful of ginger roots and began the grueling task of potion preparation.

The hours passed without regard. Severus took the opportunity to fill her in on Hogsmeade, Quidditch games and various House rivalries. Her ears drank in every silky word. She found his conversation interesting and stimulating, and his voice so melodic that she felt she would never grow bored of listening to him talk.

As the night wore on, the torch-lit chamber became cold and damp. Claira regretted not bringing her cloak along; she had no idea that the dungeons were so chilly during the summer season. Having worn a loose skirt, her legs began to shiver, and she caught herself leaning one of them against Professor Snape's thigh in a desperate attempt to keep warm. She hoped that he would not notice.

Severus felt something nudge his leg, and he glanced beneath the table to see that it was Claira's knee. He pondered about her gesture for a moment, but found that he did not mind it at all. In fact, he inched his stool closer, while stretching over the table to retrieve a bowl of bat wings. It was a pathetic attempt to make contact, a boyish act that thwarted his better sense. And still, he did nothing to rectify the seating arrangements.

Her thigh was warm against the cool of his trousers. To deny his attraction to her heat would be to deny is manhood.

At midnight, the ingredients were ready to be administered. Claira stood and followed Professor Snape as he made his way to the tables. He assigned her to make three cauldrons of the potion; he however, being the highly skilled Potions master that he was, took his place behind six of the cauldrons. She watched his movements and imitated his exact procedures. The man was brilliant. His fingers were nimble and his hands proficient; he exhibited skills unmatched by any she had ever seen.

Stirring one of her brews, Claira lifted her gaze to stare at him through the cauldron's swirling mists. His eyes were so dark and intense, and there was something seductive in the way he moved his hands: gentle, yet precise. He was not what some might consider sexy, but he had his own allure that was both unique and enigmatic.

As he leaned over his cauldrons, a few strands of raven hair fell into his face, and Claira had the sudden urge to brush them away with her fingers. Her attraction towards him had never been more apparent. As she watched him caress the surface of the hot liquid with the tip of his ladle, she wondered if he took as much care in lovemaking as he did with potion-making.

So engrossed was she in staring at him, Claira became slower and more careless in her work. After a short time, Professor Snape lifted his eyes from his six cauldrons and stared straight back into her eyes. Then, he looked down at her draughts and cocked his brow.

"Would you mind telling me, Miss Bell, why you have neglected to add wormwood, nightshade and lacewing to your cauldrons?"

"Erm, I…well, it's just that I - Oops?" Claira bowed her head in shame. She felt like such an idiot. How else could she have responded? That she was too busy sizing up his bedroom skills?

He stalked over to her table. Peering into her cauldrons, he frowned.

"This is much too thick - here, allow me." He took the mixing spoon from her hand and added the missing ingredients, as well as a fist full of ginger roots. Within a few seconds, her batch was up to par.

"Sorry, Professor. I wish I could blame it on fatigue but, if truth be told, I simply lack the experience. I only studied alchemy for one semester." Staring into a cauldron, Claira began popping bubbles with her spoon.

"Be that as it may, I thought you expressed an extraordinary amount of promise tonight. Your knowledge of ingredients is astounding; I doubt even my best student could have prepared everything that was laid upon that table. If indeed you did learn those skills in such a short amount of time, I could only imagine the talent you would possess if you chose to study under a true master." Severus rolled his eyes. It was unnerving how his tongue kept spitting out words that his brain had not approved of. He could not recall the last time he had paid anyone a compliment - not one that he truly meant, that is. If he were not careful, Claira would think he was a gentleman; his previous years spent as a Death Eater had stripped him of that title ages ago.

"Thank you." She looked up and smiled. His little pep talk somehow had restored her confidence.

As four a.m. came to pass, both Severus and Claira were exhausted but, at last, they had finished the potion. Claira's eyes were half closed and she had developed a stagger in her walk. Professor Snape, however sore from leaning over cauldrons all night, showed no signs of fatigue. For him, sleep was an undeserved privilege. On the rare occasions that he did manage to doze off, horrible nightmares of his past would pay him tribute; even dreamless sleep potions would not erase the haunting images from his mind.

"There is nothing further we can do tonight. The vaccine must be left to mature for twelve hours. I will have the vials ready for you to pick up by the afternoon." He strolled to the door and held it open for her. "Get some rest, Miss Bell. I hear Professor Moore is teaching the students how to deflect a disfiguration charm today. No doubt you will have your work cut out for you."

"Oh, I'm sure there won't be anything Poppy and I couldn't handle. But, thank you for the warning." She cast him a weary smile and brushed past him. "Goodnight, Professor."

He closed the door and let out a deep groan. To say he was not attracted to the girl would be a forgery of his inner truth. Her subtle beauty and soft manner deserved his admiration. And beneath her delicious appeal lay a modest, intelligent creature eager to learn and adapt to new ideas. To think that such a gentle, fragrant flower was unwed and free to roam about the garden of the unclaimed, both baffled him and aroused his male interest.

But, as with all flowers of rarity, one must be careful of the thorns. He was not a man of benevolence, nor did he care to be pricked by prongs of obligation and commitment. No, he preferred to be free of those burdens. If that meant having to live a life of solitude and, partake in the occasional employment of a whore to douse his sexual cravings, so be it.

With the light rustle of his robes, Severus dimmed the lights and swept out of the laboratory. He retired to his bedchambers: to the cold, placid sheets that brought his true desires little warmth.


	8. Testosterone

Chapter: 8 **(Revised)**

Professor Snape had been right. By the end of the morning, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had already sent five students to the infirmary with rearranged body parts. One boy had his nose replaced with a finger; Claira had a difficult time transforming it back because it kept wiggling about. It took all the control she possessed not to laugh at his predicament.

She even caught Madam Pomfrey chuckling into her robes, which was something of a phenomenon in itself.

The lunch hour was a peaceful relief. Soon after, Claira abandoned her post, and informed Madam Pomfrey that she was heading down to the dungeons to retrieve the trechonitis vaccine.

When she arrived, she walked into a classroom of bubbling cauldrons and whispered conversations. The students were too busy slicing up caterpillars and stirring their brews to notice her presence. She scanned the chamber and spotted Professor Snape leaning over a nervous boy adding figg leaves to his draught. He was busy marking points down on a scroll: Claira thought it best not to disturb him.

The vials of vaccine were neatly stacked on his desk. Three large crates were placed on the floor next to it and she noticed that two had already been packed, and sealed. She made her way down the aisle in order to finish loading the third crate.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the room…

"Crabbe, Goyle, take a look at what we have here." Draco Malfoy pointed them in the direction of the new mediwitch, who was bent over the Professor's desk. Her skirt was hiked up her legs and revealed a generous portion of her upper thighs. A few more inches, and they would be able to get a peak at her panties.

"That's it, darling, just a little more. Oh yes! Damn, that is a nice ass, eh, boys?"

Professor Snape, who had been lending a lazy ear to their conversation from a few feet away, looked up from his parchment. He noticed the boys' eyes gawking in the direction of his desk. He followed their gaze, and soon discovered the target of their amusement. It was Claira, inclined over one of the crates. She had on a short black skirt that produced an eyeful of soft, creamy flesh.

He mentally agreed with Malfoy: she did have a nice ass.

"I thought you hated Mudbloods?" Goyle mumbled.

"I do, you fool. But like father says, they make great whores. Why, if Snape weren't here, I'd go bend her back over that desk and fuc - "

"Malfoy! Pay attention to your cauldron. Your potion is beginning to ferment. I suggest you turn down that boiler and keep your eyes on your work. You wouldn't want to fall _behind_. " He loomed over him for a moment, and then made his way down the row of tables to assist Claira.

Along the way, his hypnotic gaze lingered on her skirt and bottom.

Almost finished, Claira grabbed a rack of vials off the desk and turned to place them inside the opened crate. As she stepped forward, her foot struck the leg of the desk, and she stumbled sideways with the vials. From behind her, a strong arm caught her in mid fall, while the other secured the vaccine.

"You ought to be more careful, Miss Bell. That is, unless you wish to spend another night with me in the laboratory."

The sound of the Professor's deep, silky voice in her ear made her heart flutter. Oh no! She hoped it was nothing; that her thoughts did not extend beyond simple attraction. She was too old for a crush.

He stood her up straight and took the case out of her hands.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she whispered. "Don't mind me, I will have these out of here in a moment."

He packed the crate and sealed it shut. "There is no need to rush. The gestation period for trechonitis is forty-eight hours, is it not? I suggest you take your time; we wouldn't want anymore mishaps before dinner."

Claira stepped forward and put a floating charm on all three of the crates. "Professor, I am impressed! You certainly know your bacterium. Forty-eight hours is an accurate estimate, but we don't want to take any chances, do we? I promise to be more careful."

With a quick flick of her wand, she guided the vaccine towards the door and out of the dungeons. Poppy was waiting for her in the Great Hall. Together they placed a vial on the tables at each student's place setting, so that the medicine would be consumed before the forthcoming feast.

A few nights later, Severus was summoned to an Order meeting. At the stroke of midnight, he made his way up to the third floor of Dumbledore's office. The majority of Hogwarts' staff arrived soon after, and they all took their places around a large, stone table. The others who attended were non-residents of the castle and they included Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, and the Weasleys.

Harry Potter was also present; as well as Sirius Black, who lurked in the corner under the guise of his Animigus. Dumbledore had decided that it was best to keep his identity hidden from the rest, until his name could be cleared. The fewer who knew of his presence in the castle the better.

Discussions of rumors, deaths and captured Death Eaters circled the chamber for hours. In the end, nothing had been agreed and tempers had started to flare.

Dumbledore sighed and ended the meeting with a heavy heart. The last three meetings had been conducted in the same fashion. There was still too much fear and mistrust amongst the Order members for them to form the united front necessary for rebellion.

When the others had gone, Sirius transformed back into his human form and sat down. Severus sneered at him from across the table. Potter scowled at them both.

Dumbledore was the first to speak. "That went rather well, don't you think?"

The others, who were too busy glaring at each other, ignored his sarcasm.

Albus took his seat and looked upon Sirius with concern. "Sirius, what have you heard in town? It has been quite some time since your last report."

"To be honest, Albus, I have not been to Hogsmeade of late." He kept his eyes averted.

"Oh? And why is that?" Albus inquired.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders.

"If I may, Headmaster?" sneered Snape. "It appears to me that Black has been spending a considerable amount of time at the infirmary. Tailing Miss Bell around like a lovesick puppy. Perhaps he will return to his duties once he has decided to take his nose out of her as - "

"Severus! I am certain that Sirius has his own reasons," Dumbledore cast Sirius an expectant look. "If you would care to explain?"

"Yes, well, I thought it would be sensible to lay low for a while; you know, to avoid suspicion," Sirius lied.

Harry, unable to hold his grudge any longer, blurted out, "It has been over a month since we last had a decent conversation! I agree with Snape on this one, you _have_ been spending an awful amount of time with that new mediwitch."

"My point exactly," Severus added. "Albus, I must express my concerns over Black's unusual obsession with the girl."

Sirius glared at him, his ears burning. "Mind your own business, _Snivellus_."

At those words, Severus rose from his chair. "Why don't you make me?"

Black leapt from his seat and withdrew his wand, but Severus was a split second faster.

"Enough!" commanded Dumbledore. "Lower your wands this instant. Severus - that will do. You may return to your chambers. Harry, you may go as well; I will send Sirius to speak with you once we have finished our discussion."

Severus scowled, tucked his wand back into his robes, and then swept out of the office.

Once Harry had gone, Albus fixed his eyes on Sirius. "Now, what is it, Sirius, that you do not wish to mention in front of Severus and Harry?"

Sirius drew in a deep, thoughtful breath. "It is true that I have spent a lot of my time at the infirmary. But, this is not without cause. I sense something within her, Albus - Claira, I mean. I do not know how to describe it but, when I am in my Animagus form, I can somehow feel the power stirring beneath her breast."

"Is it strong?"

Sirius leaned forward. "I think so. If nothing else, it deserves further looking into."

"Indeed so." Albus rose from his chair and stroked his beard. He then began to walk in circles.

Sirius knew, from years of watching Dumbledore pace his office, that he was now deeply absorbed in his thoughts. It might be hours, even days before his mind would come to a conclusion. Careful not to disturb him, Sirius stood and slipped out the door.


	9. Second Chance

Chapter: 9 **(Revised)**

11:58 p.m., on the last day of September….

The fire snapped and crackled beneath the stone mantle, its warm glow casting shadows upon the weary face of Severus Snape. He was lounged in his armchair, swivelling the last swallow of Ogden's Old Firewhisky in its bottle and glaring at the hourglass with contempt. To his left, on the side table he had conjured earlier that evening, was a menagerie of potions he had brewed to assist him when the hour struck midnight.

Five seconds to go….

Four seconds….

Three seconds….

He poured the last of the bottle's contents down his throat and grimaced.

One….

Upon the chime of the twelfth bell, the Dark Mark on Severus's forearm lit up and seared his skin. He clamped his hand over it and grunted obscenities, attempting to block out the high-pitched laugh that had begun to echo in his head. Then, the hideous skull set off a bright red illumination and Severus felt his ribs flex, and snap like twigs. He cried out in agony.

His quivering fingers stretched for the vials, drawing each one to his lips in haste.

They did little to ease the pain.

Once the punishment had ended, he staggered out of his study, through the dungeons and down the torch-lit corridors, clutching his midsection in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. When he reached the infirmary, he threw his full weight against the door. The over-exertion of his shoulder caused the door to swing open and crash into the wall, and also his body to plunge forward into the room. He tripped on the hem of his cloak and fell to the cold, stone floor with a loud groan.

Madam Pomfrey whisked out of the medicine room to find a very drunk Professor struggling to his feet.

"What in Merlin's name?" She glared at him with disapproving eyes. "Now, was that really necessary, Severus?"

"It is not an easy feat to climb two staircases, moving ones at that, with broken ribs, Poppy."

He slumped onto the nearest bed and uttered a deep moan.

Madam Pomfrey's expression instantly softened. How could she have forgotten? For the past year and, upon the last day of every month, Severus had to endure ruthless torture at the hands of Lord Voldemort; it was his punishment for betraying him. The Dark Lord used the Dark Mark on Severus's forearm as a catalyst, in which he could transmit magic from far distances and inflict massive amounts of pain at will.

Her mind drifted back to Halloween night, when Severus had been uncovered as a spy for the Order.

The other Professors, staff and students were in the Great Hall enjoying the traditional feast, while Severus had been assigned to attend a Death Eaters' assembly. At that time, no one, except Albus, considered the danger he placed himself in every time he apparated from the castle; they only cared about the information he brought back and how it would affect their plans.

Dumbledore had grown concerned when midnight came to pass and Severus had yet to return and give him a report. He decided to scour the castle first, before launching a full-fledged search of the grounds and surrounding region.

Albus was the first to find him in his study.

When Poppy approached the scene, she saw Severus's battered body lying on the floor in a thick pool of blood. She was certain he was dead. It took every ounce of strength she had to reach down and feel his pulse. When it thudded lightly against her fingers, she had burst into tears and fell to hers knees to assess his injuries. To her horror, every bone in his body had been snapped in half.

It took Severus weeks to recover. Albus had satisfied the rumors of his disappearance by telling the students that he was at a potions convention in London. From then on and, every month to follow, Voldemort used the Dark Mark as a torture device. Why he did not kill him that night remained a mystery.

"Poppy, if you would kindly return your attention to the present?"

She jerked her head up. Then, wiped a stray tear from her eye. Poppy knew she was helpless to stop the abuse; there was no cure or wand power she possessed that could rid his arm of the Dark Mark. The only thing she could do was repair the aftermath, which she feared one day would be an impossible feat.

At least, this time, all she had to do was mend a few broken bones. She quickly cast a numbing charm on his body and set to the task.

Severus, now feeling groggy from the excessive alcohol intake and mixed potions, peered around the room through blurry eyes. He was grateful that Claira had retired to her chambers and was not present to witness his debilitation. It was an embarrassment. He preferred her not to know about his monthly assaults; however, he doubted she knew nothing of his past ties as a Death Eater. Albus would have told her. And, she would have been blind not to see the Dark Mark on his arm that first night they met, when she had removed his shirt.

The fact that she had not been repulsed at the sight of it and had treated him with the same respect, and politeness, she had shown towards Albus Dumbledore, had thrown him through a loop; not many were willing to overlook his past.

There was something peculiar about that girl. To his dismay, he realized that this inner peculiarity of hers was even more appealing than her outward, physical beauty.

These were dangerous thoughts, he decided, perhaps even more dangerous to his well being than his monthly reminders from the Dark Lord. He closed his eyes, dismissing his cerebrations as a delusional side affect to the liquor he had consumed.

Several weeks had passed from the night Claira had assisted Professor Snape with the Trechonitis vaccine. She had not spoken to him since, only exchanged polite nods at dinner or in a rare instance when they would pass by each other in a corridor. From what Claira had picked up from staffroom gossip, Severus was quite evasive when it came to social interactions. It was a shame; he was the only colleague nearest her age. That is, with the exception of Professor Moore, whom Claira suspected was just as interested in the male gender as she was.

Truth be told, Claira had become rather intrigued by the solitary, enigmatic Potions master and had hoped there would be another opportunity to spend time with him, and perhaps get to know him better. So, when she had entered the infirmary one evening and was presented with a list of potions that needed to be brewed, she was ecstatic.

"Now, I have already spoken with Severus. He has agreed to let you use his laboratory tonight. Do not fret, you should be able finish these up in a few hours time; there is nothing complicated here, just your basic cold and flu draughts." Madam Pomfrey then handed Claira the list, a book of formulas and a silver key. "The Professor should not be in to bother you; he has more 'pressing' matters to attend to. However, he will be in his office - marking essays no doubt - should you need his assistance."

Claira could not help but frown as she accepted the items and made her way down to the dungeons. It was obvious that Professor Snape did not spawn the same spark of curiosity for her as she had for him. She shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps it was for the best. Business should not be mixed with pleasure, or so she had heard.

When Claira reached the cold, dim confines of the laboratory, she withdrew the key Madam Pomfrey had given her and slipped it into the steel lock. It turned over with ease; however, she was certain that the key, prior to her receiving it, had been charmed to disarm various magical wards as well.

Stepping inside the chamber, Claira flicked her wand at the torches and set down the items she was carrying. She then ignited the burners, conjured a few cauldrons from a nearby shelf and set them to boil. The soft sound of simmering liquid quickly overcame the silence, but it was still too quiet for Claira's comfort; it was awkward enough having to invade the Professor's privacy and use his things.

She waved her wand and summoned the perfect melody to relax the mood.

Pop Rock.

**To be continued….**


	10. Dirty Dancing

Chapter: 10 **(Revised)**

Severus sat hunched over his desk, over a pile of parchment with quill in hand and his eyes glued to his hourglass. He found it difficult to concentrate on his work while someone other than himself was utilizing his private laboratory. Not just anybody, but the very being that exhausted his thoughts of late. Claira. What in Merlin's name possessed him to agree to Madam Pomfrey's request?

After another ten minutes of inhibition, Severus threw his quill down and pounded his fist on the desk. How was he supposed to read fifty bloody essays with his mind wandering about? He looked down at the parchment in front of him and snorted. He had read that first damn line three times already! Rubbing his temples, he stood up and began to pace his office.

He decided it was time he paid a little visit to his laboratory. But he needed an excuse, so as not to appear obtrusive.

He paused to think of an item he might have left in there the previous night, such as a quill, or a book perhaps? No, he was too meticulous. How about a potion, or a spare cauldron? No, that was too obvious.

He strolled over to the fireplace and stared into the flames. Then an idea struck him... it was his bloody quarters! He did not require some silly excuse to enter it. In fact, it was his prerogative to make certain his belongings were being handled in an appropriate manner.

Satisfied with his rationalization, Severus snatched up his cloak and whooshed out of his study in a cascade of dark, fluttering robes.

When he neared the door, he heard the muffled sound of music radiating from within. He narrowed his eyes and snaked his fingers around the handle, careful not to make his presence known as he tugged it open, and peered inside.

What he saw made his brow rise in a surprised, yet delighted arch.

Claira's hips were swaying in a provocative fashion as she stirred her cauldron. Her enthusiasm increased with the tempo, causing her body to move with the song's suggestive theme. He caught a few of the lyrics as he leered at her from the doorway.

Damn, I wish I was your lover.  
I'd rock you till the daylight comes,  
Make sure you are smiling and warm.  
I am everything.  
Tonight I'll be your mother.  
I'll do such things to ease your pain,  
Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed.

Severus smirked and folded his arms across his chest. He watched her dance, his black eyes roaming her curves and voluptuous backside with an aroused interest. Claira continued on with her seductive routine, unaware of her captivated audience; it was a convenience of which he had no intention of disturbing at the moment. Who would have thought that, beneath her modest exterior, lay an erotic temptress? He was more than pleased with his findings.

His grin widened as she grabbed a handful of dried seaweed, spun around with her arms raised above her head, then tossed it into the cauldron with a zealous splash. It was quite humorous. That is, until she wrapped her soft, slender thigh around the center stone pillar and performed an exotic twirl, in which her body arched like a bow and her knees grazed the floor. The sight of it made Severus's blood boil and flood to his lower regions. The urge to pounce and take her right then and there overwhelmed him. He might have done it, if she hadn't whirled around at that very moment and met his gaze with wide eyes.

Claira nearly fainted at the sight of the Professor standing beneath the archway. How long had he been there? The color drained from her face. How much had he seen? She waved her wand and banished the music, while her eyes darted around the chamber for a hole to crawl in.

"My apologies, Miss Bell," he avowed in a deep baritone. "Was this a private party?"

Claira blushed. "No, of course not - that is, I didn't expect you to come - I mean, you weren't supposed to be here - but this is your laboratory, so naturally you should be here - it's just I didn't know you were…"

Her babbling trailed off as the Professor swooped inside the room and approached her with a powerful stride. His unique aroma filled her nostrils as he neared; the strong scent of musk and spices stirred her senses, causing her body to tingle with a strange anticipation of what might happen if he moved any closer. There was a raw surge of excitement at the realization that they were alone, in the deep recesses of the castle with nigh a soul about to interfere if he were to impose his darkest desires on her. Now towering over her petite form, he caressed her cheek with his warm breath, bringing reality to her odd little fantasy. Then, he leaned forward.

Claira closed her eyes and parted her lips, ensnared by the outlandish moment of romance.

"It's burning," He purred in her ear.

A few uneventful seconds passed, before Claira opened her eyes to see the Professor wearing a most peculiar expression in his face. "I'm sorry… what?"

"Your cauldron, Miss Bell. It's burning." He peered inside it and swirled the liquid with a ladle. "And I believe it is now ruined. You will have to begin again."

Claira could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Had she been paying closer attention, she would have noticed his hand reaching down beside her to lower the flame on the burner. She was very foolish to assume he was putting the moves on her, a female colleague with whom he had just recently become acquainted. And why was she so eager and willing to let him? What was she thinking?

Turning her face to hide her embarrassment, Claira levitated the disaster pot to the sink for a thorough rinse. She watched Professor Snape from the corner of her eye as he retrieved a second cauldron and set it to boil. He then ran his finger down her list of potions, while scrutinizing the ones she had already brewed. In the next instant, he was dipping a ladle in each of them to test her competence. Of all the nerve!

Just as she was about to protest, Madam Pomfrey whisked inside the laboratory. Her eyes paused on Severus, who was in the process of adding a pinch of ginger root to one of the cold draughts. She cast him a private glare that said, 'Just couldn't mind your own business, could you?'

Poppy then turned to Claira. "I'm afraid the potions will have to wait. Hagrid is housing a couple of injured Aurors that are requesting our immediate assistance. It's nothing serious, only a few minor scraps and bruises."

Severus snapped his head up. "What happened?"

"Well, from what I gathered, they received bogus information on a Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade; it turned out to be nothing more than a petty brawl between a few sloshed wizards. Somehow they managed to get themselves roughed up during the altercation and want to save face." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Come along, Claira. We had better go and tend to them before word gets out."

"What should I do about the potions?" Claira asked, thinking it rude to burden the Professor with her unfinished work.

"Oh, I doubt Severus will mind brewing the rest for you, seeing as he is already here parading his talents."

Severus stiffened his back and scowled. His gaze traveled from Madam Pomfrey to Claira, brow furrowing as he took in her soft features. She looked fatigued. He had a mind to decline but something in the girl's sapphire eyes persuaded him otherwise. "Just be sure to collect them first thing in the morning. I don't want them cluttering up my work area."

Claira flashed him an appreciative smile, before following Madam Pomfrey out of the dungeons.

Once alone, Severus rubbed his temples and groaned. It was obvious that the girl had an uncanny ability to manipulate the male species. If he had any hope for survival, he would have to keep as far away from her as possible. His primordial urges were already driving him towards the brink of insanity, forcing him to do things that stretched beyond his tolerance.

He would have to find a means of repelling her charms. But, for now and, since he had already obligated himself to the task, he would brew the rest of those cold and flu draughts for her….


	11. Deflector Potion

Chapter:11 **(Revised)**

It was a dark, dreary morning. Claira lay awake in bed, staring at the gray clouds through the glistening dew on her window. After a few moments of reverie, her eyes were drawn to tiny shimmers of falling sand; a quick glance at the hourglass on her nightstand reminded her that it was time for work. She had missed breakfast again. Adjusting to life at Hogwarts, with its long hours and early mornings, would definitely take time.

Rising out of bed, she strolled over to her wardrobe and weeded through a collection of clothing that consisted mostly of blouses, jeans and skirts: to Claira, who had been raised in a conventional Muggle home, it was all about comfort and convenience. Witches robes always seemed so laborious to her, requiring a ridiculous amount of buttoning and string tying.

She settled on a thin blouse and a pair of blue jeans, thankful that her position as an assistant mediwitch was not bound to a specific form of dress. In fact, she did not recall reading a rule in her Hogwarts handbook that restricted any of the staff members from wearing what they pleased - so as long as it met the standard of common decency. Claira noticed, however, that regardless of this privilege most of the professors chose to wear traditional teaching robes, for it was a profound symbol of authority that defined their position at the head of the classroom.

But it was a wonder how those hot, heavy robes did not make them reek of perspiration. At least Professor Snape did not smell, from what she remembered of their encounters near steamy, bubbling cauldrons. He actually had a pleasant aroma about him, similar to a mild potpourri but without the floral fragrance. Herbs, spices, and a unique musk dwelt in her memory of him, and seemed to linger in her mind much too often to be considered an innocent observation.

Later that morning when Claira arrived at the hospital wing, her toe was barely over the threshold when Madam Pomfrey shooed her back out to collect the remedies she had left in Professor Snape's custody the previous night; she was told that the man was in a 'right huff' about something, and she had best be in and out of the laboratory before he had a chance to sink in his fangs.

Claira chuckled at the vampire analogy: she had heard the students whisper such rumors in the corridors. Professor Snape, of course, was not a vampire. But she could not disagree that he did take on certain characteristics of the sallow-skinned, bloodthirsty creatures - especially the ones depicted in Muggle films. His likeness to Count Dracula was uncanny!

The dungeons were much colder than usual, Claira noticed, while folding her arms across her chest to keep from shivering, and the passageways were devoid of children. Perhaps there were no Potions classes scheduled for that morning?

As Claira rounded the tunnel leading to the laboratory, she heard voices coming from one of the empty chambers. She recognized one of the voices to be Professor Snape's; there was no mistaking that deep, velvet tone. She paused to listen, leaning her head towards a small crack in the door. He sounded agitated.

"I was under the impression that _all_ of my experiments would be taken into consideration once they were completed -"

"I am sorry, Severus. The Ministry is just as eager as I to see what you have accomplished. But unless you can prove the potion's effectiveness on human subjects, I'm afraid I'll have to pull the funding. We have already lost seven committee members to prototype potions this year. We cannot afford to take any more risks."

"Cornelius, if you will just allow me ample time to find a tester -"

"Severus, the council has already granted you a two month extension! If it were up to me, I would allow you all the time you need - especially if this potion provides the superior defense capabilities you claim; the possibilities would be endless... Unfortunately, the ruling is out of my hands, and it truly is with deep regret that I must serve you this letter of suspension." He reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a small scroll.

Claira inhaled a deep breath and stepped inside just as Professor Snape was about to take the scroll in his hand.

"Wait!" Both men froze in action and jolted their heads in her direction. "I'll drink the potion. I can test it for you."

Cornelius arched a thick eyebrow, glanced at Severus and then looked back to Claira. "My dear, this is a serious matter; there could be severe consequences, you understand?"

"Of course," Claira replied, her eyes bright with determination. "Professor Snape has my full confidence. I recently had the privilege of working beside him; his skills and knowledge of Potions is really unsurpassed. If he says the potion works, then I have no doubt in my mind that it does."

Severus peered down at her through narrowed eyes, as if he were searching for some hidden motive behind her gesture of kindness. His eyes bore into hers, but in the end it was her smile that seemed to appease his suspicions.

Cornelius cleared his throat. "What do you say, Severus? This could be the break we have been waiting for."

Severus considered the proposal for a moment, and then gave Claira a curt nod.

"Excellent!" Cornelius exclaimed. He turned to Claira and, as if he had just looked at her for the first time that morning, asked, "What is your name, my dear? I do not believe we have met."

Severus, who by default was responsible for the introduction, stepped forward. "Do pardon my manners, Cornelius, this is Miss Claira Bell; as you are aware, Dumbledore employed her as an assistant to Madam Pomfrey. Claira, this is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic."

It was the first time Claira had heard Severus speak her name, and it caused her heart to leap in her chest. He pronounced it as 'Clara' but she did not mind, nor did she wish to correct him. It sounded beautiful, a product of his deep English accent.

Cornelius clapped his hands and rubbed them together as if preparing for a tasty treat. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's see it!"

The Minister stood aside while Severus handed Claira a small vial filled with brown, muddy liquid. "It's not as foul as it looks, Claira. Nevertheless, drink it in one full swallow."

Claira tipped the vial to her lips and allowed the salty liquid to glide over her tongue and down her throat. She took one big swallow and, after a moment or two, felt a warm sensation travel from her scalp down to the tips of her toes.

Severus walked to the opposite side of the room and turned on his heel. "By now you should be feeling its effects, such as heat or numbness beneath your skin. Am I correct? Good. Claira, this potion was designed to mutate specific cells in your body (temporarily, I assure you), which enables your muscles to act as a shield and, in a sense, deflect magical attacks. Allow me to demonstrate."

He withdrew his wand from his robe pocket, pointed it at her and shouted, "Stupefy!"

Claira flinched as a bolt of red light struck her in the chest; she had not been prepared for the attack, nor did she realize he was so quick on the draw. But, to her amazement, the spell had no affect on her. It simply bounced off her skin and vanished.

"Let's try again… Petrificus Totalus... Obliviate..." He cast spell after spell, each one more powerful and dangerous than the last.

Claira took mental note of the preciseness and efficiency of his wand work; he appeared to be a master at hexes and curses, as well as potion brewing. Cornelius stood back in awe, his eyes wide and staring at the empty vial. Claira stood back in awe, her eyes on Severus Snape, the man whose intelligence and dexterity had just captured her heart.

Lowering his wand, Severus turned to the Minister. "It also blocks the Cruciatus Curse."

At his words, both Claira's and the Minister's mouths fell agape. Cornelius shot a glance her way, eagerness swelling inside his eyes like two large boils. She knew he wanted to see it done. If the potion succeeded, then Severus was responsible for inventing the first ever defense against an Unforgivable Curse; the achievement was colossal enough to secure a page for him in all present and future history books. How could she possibly deny him that opportunity?

Claira looked at Professor Snape and smiled. "Whenever you are ready, Professor."

Severus stared at her in wonderment, which soon turned into a look so intense her knees began to shake; whether it was out of fear or aphrodisia, she was not certain.

He then raised his wand. "Crucio!"

The curse ploughed into Claira's breast. She stumbled backwards but, because the potion was flawless in its performance, she was able to regain her balance quickly and without injury.

There was a monumental moment of silence; the time it took for their minds to realize the magnitude of Severus's achievement. His creation could mean the difference between life and death for thousands of witches and wizards across the world.

Claira was the first to break the silence. She clapped as loud and fast as her small hands would permit.

Fudge joined in with a boastful cheer. "Good work, old boy! My word! This will earn you the Order of Merlin for sure - First Class, if I have anything to say about it!"

An additional pair of hands soon strengthened the applause. They belonged to none other than Albus Dumbledore, who stood in the doorway with a gleam of pride in his eyes. Not a single happening in the castle seemed to evade the cunning, old wizard.

Severus gave into the temptation to grin; this was the chance he had anticipated for years, an opportunity to have his talents recognized by the Ministry. He was still a young man in comparison to the elder wizards, and his career goals did not begin and end with Hogwarts. No, the application he submitted to the Ministry of Magic at the end of last term, complete with polished resume, expressed his future ambitions. He was aiming for an honorable position in one of the defense departments, with hopes of one day advancing to a seat on the High Council. It would take time, of course. But now, with his plans finally put into action, he was one step closer.

Fudge approached Severus and shook his hand. "Come, Severus, we have much to discuss indeed."

As they neared the door, Severus turned his head, casting Claira an expression which was battling between gratitude and impatience. She grinned and waved him on, assuring him that words were not necessary, and that she was more than capable of finding her own way out without his assistance.

Once they had gone, Claira made her way to the laboratory, relieved to find the door unlocked. She gathered the remedies she had been sent to retrieve and returned to the infirmary.

That afternoon, Professor McGonagall paid Madam Pomfrey a personal visit. The two stood in the far corner of the room, teacups in hand and heads bowed in feverish gossip. Claira attempted to ignore their frequent glances and fervent whispers as she redressed the beds. She had a nagging suspicion that she was the very object of their discussion.

But curiosity soon drew her closer to the conversation, and she began to select beds that placed her within earshot. She strained to listen while pretending to fluff a pillow, and could have sworn she heard Minerva murmur the name Severus Snape. Before she could confirm the words, the infirmary door swung open and in swooped the surly man himself.

Claira's eyes tore back to the sheets; however, she kept a remote watch from the corner of her eye.

Poppy excused herself and moved to approach him, but stopped midway when he nodded his chin in Claira's direction. She nodded back before returning to her conversation with Professor McGonagall; their eager gazes followed his dark form as he strode over to her young, female assistant.

"Miss Bell, might I have a word?"

Claira's pulse began to race at the sound of his smooth, silky voice. In an attempt to conceal her nerves, she twisted her face into one of surprise, hoping to convince him that she was shocked rather than excited to see him. "Oh! Hello, Professor. What can I do for you?"

"I am curious to know why you acted as you did this morning." He folded his arms across his chest, eyes locked on hers as if he might find the answers by some other form of interrogation. "You see, not many are willing to consume untested potions. So, why did you choose to do so?"

Claira bit her bottom lip and lowered her gaze to the large black buttons on his frock coat. "I suppose I should begin by apologizing to you for eavesdropping on your conversation with the Minister; it was quite rude of me. But I could not stand idle and watch him revoke your grant based on the blunders of other, less competent Potions masters." She picked up the edge of the bed sheet and knotted it in her hands. "I meant everything I said earlier; your talent for Potions is like none I have ever seen. You are quite brilliant."

She blushed and continued to turn down the bed.

"Your sentiments are appreciated but unnecessary, Miss Bell. Now, if I may offer you something in return for your -"

"No, please. I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything. If you must, a simple 'thank you' will do."

"Very well," he replied, softening his voice to avoid being overheard. "But at least allow me to do it properly, say... over dinner perhaps?"

Claira's eyes darted to his in surprise.

Her heart skipped a beat and it took her a moment to steady her breathing. "Yes, thank you. That would be lovely."

The slightest twinge of a smile formed at the corner of his mouth, as if her acceptance was something unexpected but pleasantly so.

"Then how does tonight at seven sound?" He would only have to cancel his appointment with Filch, ignore the pile of tests on his desk and reschedule detention with Weasley.

"Perfect. I can meet you in the Entrance Hall, if you like?"

Severus nodded in agreement, stole one last glance at her, and then swept out of the infirmary.

Claira released the breath she had been holding and smiled, her eyes still clued to the door through which Severus had exited. It wasn't until she heard a sigh that she remembered there were other occupants in the room, no doubt having eavesdropped on the entire conversation.

She looked up and blushed at the smug, knowing grin on Minerva's face: the old woman's wrinkles did little to hide her felicity for having just been privy to some juicy bit of gossip. Poppy's expression was quite the opposite. So much in fact that Claira began to wonder if her mentor's look of dismay was a cause for concern. What harm was there in dinner with Professor Snape?

Severus made it as far as the entrance to the dungeons before he froze in his tracks. His eyes widened in a sudden thrill of foreboding, hand still clutching the round, steel handle.

How did tonight at seven sound? It sounded very much like a date.


	12. A Proposition

Chapter: 12 **(revised)**

**A Proposition**

Severus gritted his teeth while his fingers fumbled with the collar button of his best shirt. Although his proposal to Claira had yet to be classified as a date, he decided it would be more appropriate to dress in formal attire for their dinner engagement: a crisp, white, long-sleeved shirt, a handsome black waistcoat and black pleated trousers better suited his purpose, as opposed to heavy teaching robes.

Not that his purpose was to attract the opposite sex. No, the lightweight garments simply provided an easier means of maneuvering about a crowded pub.

Of course it would have been inconsiderate of him not to have showered, or groomed his hair, or shaved the sprout of whiskers on his chin. And, because the evening was sure to place them within close proximity of each other, it would have been rude of him not to splash on a bit of cologne to mask any lingering scents from the dungeon she might find unpleasant.

Sitting upon the edge of his bed, Severus had just finished adjusting the leg of his trousers over the neck of his polished boots when his fireplace choked out a puff of smoke.

"Ah, Severus, there you are," said Dumbledore, his head suspended inside the crackling flames. "I have decided to hold a brief staff meeting at six-thirty. Your attendance, as always, would be greatly appreciated."

Severus scowled. "Certainly, Headmaster."

"Oh, and if you happen by Argus, please inform him that one of our first-year students has misplaced her toad. I believe Peeves may have had a hand in it."

Never mind his impending plans for the evening, Severus sneered at the fire logs, as he shoved a fistful of galleons into his pocket. Happen by Argus indeed! He snatched his travel cloak from its immaculate silver stand and stormed out of his rooms in search of the caretaker.

**Meanwhile...**

Claira sat alone on a small, cushioned armchair that was furthest away from the gaping eyes and whispers of the surrounding staff members. To say she was uncomfortable would have been an understatement. She had been dodging stares in the corridors and stairwells the entire afternoon. It was astonishing how fast news traveled throughout the castle, especially when that news involved the most secretive teacher at Hogwarts, Severus Snape.

She tried to hide behind an edition of the Evening Prophet as a small crowd of children gathered outside of the staffroom. They were sneaking peeks at her through the doorway, which someone had mischievously charmed to remain open. Minerva suspected it was a Zonko's product called Tacky Goo, and had informed her that only Professor Flitwick, who had yet to arrive, knew the spell to remove it. However, Claira had a feeling that Minerva, like the others, was simply enjoying the tiny drama unfolding around her, not to mention listening to the ridiculous rumors the children were concocting in the corridor. They accused Professor Snape of such devilries as slipping a love potion into her pumpkin juice, dropping an aphrodisiac into her chicken soup and disguising a lust amulet as an hors d'oeuvre. It was all very absurd!

Unable to pull her ears away from the children's drabble, Claira overheard one of the newcomers ask, "Er, what's everyone standing around here for?"

"Haven't you heard? Snape's got a date with that new mediwitch. Miss Bell, isn't it?"

"You must be joking, right? Bloody hell! That would be like, uh, Beauty and the Beast!"

"More like Beauty and the Great Ugly Bat!" cackled another boy.

A girl's voice suddenly shouted, "He's coming! He's coming!" It sounded as if she was out of breath from running. "And he's dressed up all fancy-like!"

The students strained to look over each other's head. They pushed and shoved, and stood on the tips of their toes. Inside, the staff fell silent.

"There he is! Merlin's balls, look at him!" one of the girls giggled. "You know, he actually looks rather good!"

"Ew, Jessica, that's Snape you're talking about!"

With a girlish gleam in her eye, Professor McGonagall stood up from her chair. Acting as if she were merely surveying the commotion in the corridor, she hurried to the doorway and peered out. She returned to her seat shortly afterward, struggling to disguise a smirk.

The deep rumble of Professor Snape's voice brought the noisy event to a closing. "Unless you all have written permission to loiter about the hallways, I suggest you return to your dormitories, immediately!"

Claira's face flushed when the Professor stepped into view. He was a sight! It was the first time she had seen him out of his teaching robes, and she had to admit he was indeed a handsome man. Perhaps not in the fairytale Prince Charming sort of way, but he did have a certain allure that made him just as attractive; one had to admire a tall, lean man who knew how to carry himself in a dignified manner. Her eyes glistened in appreciation.

As Severus turned to enter the staffroom, one of the students whistled and howled, "WAY TO GO, PROFFESOR SNAPE!"

Severus whipped around, his eyes darting this way and that in search of the miscreant which dared to address a professor in such a disrespectful fashion. But it was too late, and the boy had run off. No matter, it would still be ten points from Gryffindor.

As he entered the room, he was greeted with sniggers and murmurs, which soon faded away as he sneered at each of his colleagues in turn. His piercing eyes then fell on Claira, and he felt a brief, passing weakness in his knees. She was wearing a short, sleeveless dress that revealed an abundance of flesh normally hidden beneath her day-to-day Muggle attire. Her hair, done in soft curls, draped over her shoulders in the most appealing of ways. Severus was taken aback by her appearance, and could not help but stare at her, unaware that he was drawing even more unwanted attention to himself. It was apparent that the girl saw their outing as a romantic engagement of some sort and, for the first time in a very long time, he felt a twinge of nervousness, and was uncertain how to proceed.

Just then, Dumbledore entered the room, beaming. "Good evening. As I am sure you all have plans for tonight," he paused to give Severus the opportunity to take his seat, "I will attempt to make this meeting as fleeting as possible. As you all know, the Hogsmeade weekend is drawing near - "

The entire staff, with the exception of Claira who was unfamiliar with the topic of choice, began to grumble beneath their breath.

"Now, now, you know as well as I that someone must be there to keep an eye on the students. Madam Hooch, surely you can - "

"I'm Sorry, Albus. I've already made arrangements for that weekend. Perhaps Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall gave her a sharp glance. "I do believe I supervised the majority of visits last term. I think it's only fair that someone else volunteer for a change."

The staffroom exploded in chatter.

"Silence!" Dumbledore raised his hand, receiving the desired result. "Very well, I shall place this scroll on this table, along with this quill. Before anyone leaves here tonight, I expect there to be at least one signature on it. Madam Pomfrey, of course you are excused; your services, as always, are needed at the castle. As for the rest of you, please recheck your schedules."

Unwilling to spend the next hour squabbling like a flock of Fwoopers, Severus stood up and approached the table. Snatching up the quill, he jotted his name down on the parchment. He then motioned Claira to follow as he swept towards the door.

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore, frowning at the other professors. "Do enjoy yourselves this evening."

A cool breeze flitted under Claira's dress as they descended the stone steps leading away from the castle. The moon and stars shone remarkably bright that night, illuminating the grounds, as well as the path to Hogsmeade. Walking side by side, but far enough apart so as not to invade the others' personal space, the two commenced towards the twinkling lights of the village.

Severus watched Claira out of the corner of his eye, his gaze often straying to the areas of stretched fabric that exploited her slender, yet curvaceous figure. It was a little known secret that he had a preference for petite women: in his eyes, they were fair and elegant, and easy to dominate. But the more he looked at the woman beside him, the more infatuated he became with her, and the angrier he became with himself for giving in to such a frivolous desire. Now that his potion had been submitted to the Ministry for review, he was no longer in a position to pursue a relationship beyond that of an acquaintance, nor would he have the time for it.

Just as they reached the foot of the path, Severus turned to her. "Before we continue onward, I think we should eliminate any false assumptions that may have manifested between now and this morning. Although your efforts," his eyes swept over her body in a bold, appreciative manner, "have not gone unnoticed, and you are indeed a very attractive young lady, I want to clarify that I do not consider this to be a date. That being said, I see no reason why we cannot share a quiet evening together as colleagues."

Claira was speechless for a moment. His words bruised her pride, but she held her chin up. "Thank you, Professor. I think you made it quite clear. Colleagues, it is."

"Good. Shall we?" He spun back towards the town, and proceeded to lead her down its path.

They traveled a considerable distance in silence. The only conversation was the chirping of the crickets, and the croaking of the toads.

At last, Claira spoke. "I suppose that is Hogsmeade then?" It was a silly question, but it seemed to thin out the friction between them, as well as her embarrassment for having done herself up for a date that did not exist.

"Yes, " Severus replied. Then, after a pause, he asked, "Are you familiar with its history?"

As they walked, he explained the town's development and magical ancestry. The discussion held until they reached the outskirts.

Claira was amazed at how many shops and cottages lined the roads. Many of the businesses were closed for the night, but a few windows remained lit by candles. It was a charming place, and she admired its timeworn beauty as she followed Severus down several winding paths. She would have liked to explore some of the buildings, but was rushed past them all on what seemed to be a hastened journey to a small cedar door. A faded sign hung on a rusted pole just above that read: The Dragon's Den.

Severus held the door open as they stepped inside.

The pub was noisy, smoky, and astir with witches and wizards in search of an empty table. Claira tried to stay close to Severus as they pushed through the crowd, but he stepped ahead of her and slipped between two large, bearded men. As she attempted to follow, the men clapped their mugs together in a boisterous toast, blocking her path. Claira could only watch as Severus approached the bar and conversed with an old mage behind the counter.

He exchanged a leather pouch for a small silver object then rejoined her, much to Claira's relief. Grabbing hold of her arm, he pulled her towards a wooden door hidden in the shadows and inserted a key. Once the door was unlocked, he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her inside.

It was a cozy, dimly lit room. There was a decorative marble fireplace, a table dressed in white linen, and two wooden chairs. On the walls hung an array of antique paintings, many of which were animated portraits of famous witches and wizards. Claira grinned. It was a pleasant retreat, warm and quiet, compared to the rest of the pub.

Severus pulled out a chair for her.

"I have already taken the liberty of ordering our meal," he said, sitting down opposite from her at the table.

Just then, a plump witch pushed through the door carrying two large platters, cutlery and goblets, all of which were made of fine silver. She placed them on the table.

"What would you like to drink, Miss?"

"Oh, um, lemonade with ice, thank you."

The witch tapped the rim of her goblet, and it filled itself with lemonade and cubed ice.

"And you, sir?"

"The Chardonnay: Chateau Latour, the '97 vintage."

She performed the same spell on his goblet, which filled with the chilled, golden wine. The waitress then exited the room.

Claira waited for Severus to remove the cover from his dish before removing hers. Steam rose up then cleared to reveal the strange-looking food on her plate. It bore a slight resemblance to a seafood platter; only it looked more exotic, and much less appetizing. Glancing up, she noticed he had already taken a bite of his. As he had purchased the meal, and because she did not want to be rude, Claira took a deep breath and scooped a small portion into her mouth.

Her eyes closed in ecstasy. It was delicious!

Severus peered up from his plate. "I trust the meal is satisfactory?"

"Yes! This is fantastic. What is it?" She waved her hand to stop him from answering. "No, wait, don't tell me. I wouldn't want to ruin it."

His mouth formed an almost sinister grin. "Neither would I."

Claira chuckled. Deep beneath his dark brow and hooded expression, the man had a sense of humor. She appreciated the subtle, underplayed delivery, and she loved how he never laughed at his own comments; so giving those comments a certain ambiguity. People often mistook his words as insults because of that. Staring into his black, guarded eyes, she wondered what other hidden qualities he would unveil to her given time and, of course, the right persuasion.

Claira lowered her gaze to her plate, and sighed. What was wrong with her? She had to stop romanticizing a man who would not wish to be romanticized. This was not a date, no matter how much she would have liked it to be. However, the fact still remained that she was attracted to him; there was no denying it. If she were not careful about hiding her feelings, she would end the night with egg on her face.

Severus watched Claira with interest, bemused by her conflicting expressions. She seemed to be brimming with inner turmoil, and he pondered on why that might be. He had just made her laugh, but now she was frowning at her roasted Kappa. Women's emotions could be so inconsistent.

Was it possible she had developed an infatuation for him during their time spent together? His eyes narrowed at the idea. Impossible, he thought. Surely she would prefer a younger man, presumably one more handsome and eager to please. However, there was a part of him that was flattered Claira would even consider him: she was an attractive woman. Most attractive women never gave him a second glance.

As he took a sip of wine, his eyes began to drift downwards from her face to her bosom. He could tell by the tight rise in the fabric that she had a sizeable bust. His eyebrow twitched. He happened to favor full, taut breasts, especially ones accented by smooth, unblemished skin; but not ones so large they would not fit in his hands. He stole another swallow of wine. Claira's breasts, he decided, were of perfect kneading size.

He set his goblet down on the table and slid it aside; the wine was beginning to cloud his head with nonsense. It was time he focused his attention on more important matters, such as the reason why he had invited Claira to dinner in the first place.

"I don't think you quite realize the significance of your actions this morning. Finding someone who is willing to test experimental draughts is near to impossible these days. If you hadn't intervened this morning the funding would have been lost, as well as any lives the potion might otherwise have saved. So you see, it is not just I who should be grateful to you. "

Claira looked up, and smiled. "It was my pleasure."

Severus held her gaze. His fingers drummed the table. "I have a proposition for you to consider." He paused for her reaction. Seeing naught but curiosity in her eyes, he continued. "The potion you tested was only one of many prototype draughts I am currently working on. You must understand that not all potions I brew are requested by the Ministry. I do, occasionally, accept commission work from private parties if the challenge intrigues me. I need someone to test them, someone who is disciplined and competent enough to follow my exact orders. Naturally, I would not allow you to take anything which might harm you. An antidote would always be on hand to counter any, how shall I say, negative effects you might experience. Should you accept the position, you would be generously compensated."

Claira blinked at him while her mind raced over the possibilities. She made little money as an assistant to Madam Pomfrey, and she could use a few extra galleons to put in her savings vault at Gringotts. But, more importantly, it was an opportunity to contribute something to the Wizarding world, to help save lives. The war was drawing near. She was not a warrior: she was a healer. Any chance she had to make a difference was a risk she was willing to take.

"I would be honored, Professor."

Severus leaned forward, his expression stern and earnest. "Please be absolutely certain, Miss Bell. This is a serious commitment. I won't tolerate any breaches of our agreement should you change your mind."

Claira nodded. "I never make a promise I don't intend to keep." She reached over and placed her hand on top of his. "I won't let you down."

He stared down at her hand, resisting the urge to turn his over and take hold of it. Her skin was soft and warm, and the physical contact made him feel almost human again. Looking up, his eyes locked with hers. "Our sessions will be held twice a week, Monday and Thursday night. Everything discussed and witnessed is to remain between us, understood? I shall be our Secret Keeper. If you have any questions, please ask them now. I do not want to waste time on formalities come Monday."

Claira slowly withdrew her hand. "Will I be testing poisons?"

"Not at first," he replied. "But, yes, you will; however, not without a proper antidote, for obvious reasons."

Claira bit her lip. "What if something goes wrong? Do you have a contingency plan?"

Severus's mouth thinned. "Do you doubt my ability?"

Claira's eyes widened. "No, not at all. I didn't mean - "

"I assure you, I would not impose a potion upon you that did not hold my absolute confidence. However, should there be an unforeseen effect, I will be at the ready with a remedy." He cocked his eyebrow. "I needn't remind you that you also work alongside one of the most proficient Healers in the Wizarding world."

Claira blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"It would take a great deal more than that to offend me, my dear," Severus snorted. "Or haven't you heard the rumors about Hogwarts' dreaded Potions professor? I, on the other hand, have become immune to such backbiting." He downed the remainder of his wine. "Have you finished your meal?"

Claira glanced at her plate, and grinned. She was picking at her food. "Yes, I am. Thank you. It was wonderful."

"It was the least I could do." He stood and tossed on his travel coat. "And now, it is time you become acquainted with the town."

Holding the door open for her, they left The Dragon's Den and ventured out into the street.


	13. Hogsmeade Tour

Chapter: 13 **(Revised)**

**Hogsmeade Tour**

Claira frowned at the empty square. More candles had been put out since they had arrived, which made it difficult to see what was displayed in the shop windows. As they walked, Severus told her each retailer's name and what they sold. He would pause just long enough for her to peep through the shadowy glass before moving onto the next closed shop. Claira's feet soon began to drag over the cobblestones.

Severus glanced down at his companion and grimaced. She looked bored. He was not to blame, of course: most of the activities in Hogsmeade ceased once the sun ducked behind the mountains. However, regardless of the town's lack of interesting things to do and see, he was still under an obligation to entertain. His eyes darted about the street and, to his luck, spotted tiny lights flickering in a corner shop window.

He grabbed Claira by the wrist and dragged her to the door.

"The Apothecary," he announced.

The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with shelves stocked with fresh potion ingredients. Cauldrons of all configurations were either stacked in a corner or dangled off rusted hooks. Smoking phials placed near the foul smelling elements produced a pleasant aroma that both masked odors and lured customers closer to the products. If it were not for a silencing charm, the spinning devices floating above their heads would have deafened their ears.

"You are welcome to have a look about," Severus urged. "I must speak with the shopkeeper."

Claira nodded and scooted off, eager to explore.

As Severus approached the front counter, an elderly wizard limped out of the storage room. "Professor! I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't expect to see you until next week. I'm afraid your order isn't quite ready yet."

"I realize that, Artemis. I am not here on Hogwarts business, actually - "

POP!

Both men turned towards Claira, who had one hand clamped over her mouth and the other tucked behind her back. The shopkeeper eyed her with suspicion for he had a strict 'you break it, you buy it' policy. When his gaze drifted back to Severus, Claira slipped the broken lever underneath its partner contraption and hurried off to the opposite side of the shop.

"Now, that's a face I haven't seen before." The old man adjusted his spectacles and peered over Severus's shoulder for a better look at the young woman. "Is she with you?"

Severus nodded. "We shared a meal at the Dragon's Den."

"A meal, you say? I see. Good for you, man!" the old wizard winked. "She's quite the beauty."

Severus didn't bother to explain the nature of their relationship. He found the idea rather amusing, perhaps even a little flattering, that Artemis thought she was his mate.

"Whilst I am here, I might as well purchase a sachet of nightshade," Severus said, willing their conversation towards something less personal.

"I shall have to check in the back. That wretched owl of mine has lost three orders of the stuff just this past week." Artemis disappeared into his storeroom.

Claira had made her way around the shop, perusing the shelves and fiddling with strange instruments. There was one aisle left to explore. Upon her arrival, she spotted a small gold trinket on the top shelf. She was drawn to the shinny object like a moth to a candle flame. As she stretched her arm out, another hand brushed past hers and collected it.

"Fascinating object, don't you think?" Severus inquired. He pinched it between his fingers and held it up for her to see. "Do you know what this is?"

Claira bit her bottom lip. "It looks like a miniature golden egg."

"Not quite." Taking hold of her hand, he pressed the object into her palm and closed her fingers over it with his thumbs. "This happens to be a very informative, magical item. You see, should a man hand this to a woman he desires, and should it turn blue, the color signifies the woman's opposition in feeling; however, should it change to red, there is a good probability the couple will end their evening together in bed."

Claira opened her hand, and blushed. The egg was glowing a brilliant red.

Severus met her gaze and grinned; he took pleasure in making her cheeks flush, as he had done many times since her arrival at Hogwarts.

"Now, that's a load of hogwash if I ever heard it!" Artemis argued, having emerged from the storeroom. "He's only teasing you lass."

Severus turned and scowled at the old man. He then took the trinket from Claira and placed it back on the shelf. " Then again, it may be a device charmed to detect thermal temperatures. To each his own."

"You are an exceptional liar, Professor," Claira smirked.

"I am all out of nightshade, Severus. Blast that owl! I shall send my assistant to collect the next order. It should be here in a few days time."

"You may include it in my order for the school, Artemis. I will be back to collect them both on Wednesday. I trust they will be ready by then."

He led Claira out of the shop.

Severus knew he could not end the evening without introducing Claira to the most popular pub in Hogsmeade. Also, he was in dire need of a drink.

The Three Broomsticks was especially crowded that night, much to Severus's dismay. Not only would it be difficult to find two vacant stools adjacent to one another, but also being amid such a noisy rabble wore on his nerves. However, contrary to his discomfort and appeal towards abandoning the idea, Claira seemed keen on entering. One glance at her exhilarated expression, and he could not bring himself to deny her the experience. Placing his hand on her hip, but only for the sake of not losing her in the bustling throng of people, Severus guided her to the bar.

They had to wait all of ten minutes for a couple to leave, during which Severus spent sneering and staring at the flagrant lovebirds, incapable as they were of keeping their hands off each other. But at last they were gone, and he and Claira were able to sit down. The bartender was upon them within moments, his bushy eyebrows almost impairing his vision.

"What'll it be?"

Claira's gaze was glued to his enormous, curled mustache. "Do you have anything nonalcoholic, like a Pixie Smoothie?"

"Eh?" He stared as if she were speaking a foreign language. "Smoothie?"

"A Virgin Doxy Cocktail," Severus commanded. "And a shot of Dragon's Breath."

"Aye." He waved his hand and the drinks prepared themselves.

Claira took a sip from her long, twisted straw, and smiled at Severus with approval. "This is good."

"Pardon?" Her words had been drowned out by the surrounding clamor. He set his empty shot glass down on the counter, and motioned to the bartender for a refill.

Leaning closer, Claira brushed his cheek with hers. "I said: this is good."

The warmth of her breath against his ear sent a shocking ripple through his body. It took him a moment to recover.

"Pleased to hear it," he said, mimicking her actions. The closeness gave him an opportunity to smell the sweet perfume she had daubed on her neck. The scent of a woman was a powerful aphrodisiac, and were it not for the many leering eyes in the pub he might have made an advancement; but no, Severus turned away and touched his lips to his shot glass instead, reminding himself that the woman beside him was not to be pursued.

A band of instruments that once lay dormant in the corner of the pub suddenly rose and struck a chord. Couples leapt to their feet and rushed to a small area of the room to dance.

Claira was upon him once again, oblivious to the thrill her nearness was causing him. "Is it always this lively?"

Severus downed his drink and set it in front of the bartender for a third refill, which he then drank in one swallow. "Not always, but often. As you may have noticed, there isn't much else to do after nightfall but pile on top of each other and get pissed."

The Dragon's Breath had begun to take effect, and soon his eyes were on her thighs, ogling the exposed skin the slight rise of her dress provided him.

Her eyes were on the dance floor, a remnant of a grin still tugging at her lips from his comment.

The bartender seized the moment. Leaning over the bar with the nozzle of a bottle tilted over Severus's glass, he asked, "Will you be needing a room, mate? I've got one cheap if you want it."

Severus glanced at Claira, his gaze sweeping over her form. He then shook his head. "That won't be necessary."

He still had a wisp of wit about him. However, had he come alone a fifth, six and seventh round would have been ordered, and he would be teetering on his stool; but as he was responsible for seeing Claira back to Hogwarts, he finished off his fourth and turned his glass over, tossing six galleons next to it.

Claira had been watching couples dance, absorbed in the romance of love and music. It had been years since a man had shown her any sort of adoration, let alone whisked her out onto a dance floor. No longer consumed by her studies, she was ready for a meaningful relationship, or to at least start dating. Her grin faded. She had hoped Severus would be the first to make a move, as she had become quite fond of him; but he had squashed that idea earlier that evening.

As she continued to stare, envious of the other women, she caught the eye of a tall, roguish man strutting across the room. Although he was good-looking, he had a sinister air about him; his gaze was smoldering with mischief. She looked away, but she could still feel his eyes upon her.

"Oh, no," she sighed, as she watched him approach from the corner of her eye.

His gruff, smoky voice cut through the noise. "Ahem."

Severus spun around at the announcement, briefly dumfounded to see a young, dark-haired man standing there, his hand extended towards Claira.

"Care to dance, miss?" He shot a look at Severus. "That is, if your gentleman friend doesn't mind?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. A hot, burning sensation suddenly washed over him, something akin to anger but without a specific motive. He just had an overwhelming urge to jab the man in the eye with his wand. Nevertheless, he suppressed his desire to object. He had no claim to the girl, after all; it was ultimately her decision whether or not she wanted to dance with the man.

Claira blushed. "No, I don't think - "

"Surely one dance wouldn't hurt?" the man insisted, taking hold of her hand. "I promise, you won't be disappointed."

A low rumble of fiendish laughter drew Severus's attention, and he noticed three men standing nearby, staring vigilantly at the couple, as if they were well acquainted with the young man. He recognized two of them; they had attended several recruitment gatherings held by the Dark Lord and his henchmen. It was possible they had advanced from the flanks to become fully-fledged Death Eaters since then, for he had been out of the fold for almost a year now. Their presence in Hogsmeade was discomforting, but more so that they seemed to have targeted Claira for their amusement. A Muggleborn in the hands of four Death Eaters meant only one thing: trouble.

Severus stood. Wavering slightly before regaining his pose, he stepped forward. "I believe the lady has already declined a dance. Kindly remove yourself before you look even more of a fool than you already do."

His eyes flashed at Severus. "This doesn't concern you, old man."

He tightened his hold on Claira's hand and pulled her off the stool. Severus lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of the man's coat in one hand and poking a wand to his neck with the other.

"Perhaps I hadn't made it clear enough for you the first time."

The bartender slammed an empty glass down on the counter. "You two! Take it outside."

An excited crowd began to gather, blocking the man's shady companions who were shouting and pushing to get through.

Claira tugged Severus's arm. "Professor, please, let's just go."

The young man's eyes were wide and darting about, searching frantically for his friends. "Yeah, that's it. You'd better listen to her, if you know what's was good for you!"

Severus growled and shoved him into the crowd. "Lucky for you, I have the courtesy not to duel in front of a lady. However, should you challenge me again, I will not hesitate to turn your insides out for all to see."

He grabbed Claira by the elbow and pulled her towards the door, his pace swift and steadfast.

Claira was stunned. She had never seen that fierce, hard side of him. She wished she had not! For Severus had made a transition from urbanely handsome to dangerously sexy in one valiant sneer.

Just as they entered the dark alleyway, the door to the Three Broomsticks swung open with a bang, followed by several hurried footsteps.

"SNAPE!" an angry voice shouted.

Pushing Claira up against the side of the building, one arm raised to shield her from an attack, Severus took hold of her waist with the other and apparated them both back to Hogwarts.

They stood in the shadows at the edge of the Dark Forest, her arms draped over his shoulders, his hands on her hips. For several moments, neither moved. It was as if the embrace had paralyzed them.

Claira gazed up at the stars, thinking how romantic the situation would have been had Severus not snubbed the idea of a date.

She pulled away. "What was that all about, back at the pub?"

He stared down his nose at her. "Never you mind."

Stepping past her, he drew his cloak snugly around him, feeling a cold draft in place of the heat her body had created. They moved out of the darkness and up the hill towards the castle.

"I suppose I should apologize for the shortness of our excursion. I promised Poppy I'd have you back by eleven. She wanted to ensure you were well rested for tomorrow's activities."

Claira eyed him, frowning. She didn't like how he and Madam Pomfrey were always conspiring behind her back. "What activities?"

"Quidditch practice," he said, in half-truth. Gryffindor was scheduled to begin training in the morning, though perhaps not to Poppy's knowledge. However, it was an adequate excuse that saved him from having to explain the intricate details of his past; a subject he did not wish to embark upon.

They entered Hogwarts through the heavy double doors, and paused to face each other in the entrance hall. Claira avoided his stare, twiddling the hem of her dress.

"Thank you, Professor. I had a splendid time." She forced herself to make eye contact. "Monday evening then?"

He pulled a face like one who had just been ambushed. The expression was gone in a blink, but Claira had noticed his discomfort and realized he must have forgotten about their conversation. Then the truth dawned on her: he thought she was asking him out on another date!

"Our first testing session?" she added quickly, her cheeks burning.

"Oh, yes." A droplet of sweat fled down his temple and ducked beneath a curtain of hair. "Seven sharp."

Claira toed a small pattern on the carpet flooring.

"Well, goodnight."

He stiffened, clenching his fists.

"Goodnight, Miss Bell."

Their eyes locked.

The silence was almost unbearable.

In a bold movement that even defied her logic, Claira stepped closer, her lips inches from his ear. "It's a shame this wasn't a date. I would have liked to kiss you."

She escaped up the stairs before he could respond. In that moment, as he watched her tight, round bottom disappear from sight, he regretted his decision to disguise their evening as something other than what it essentially was: a date. His shoulders slumped as he made the journey to the dungeons, knowing he could have been engaged in the onset of life's oldest mating ritual, rather than retiring to his bedchamber alone.


	14. Truth Serum

Chapter: 14  
  
Monday had come in a flash. Rumors of their evening out together had finally died down. Claira hadn't seen much of Severus since that night. It was almost as if he were deliberately avoiding her. He probably just wanted to kill the rumor that they were secret lovers. Their trip to Hogsmeade wasn't exactly a date by any means. So why did it bother her so much that he was ignoring her? Most likely it was because he was the only other person she had relations with other than Madam Pomfrey. The only time she came in contact with the other Professors was at meal times and staff meetings. She had to find a way to mingle.  
  
Claira was surprised to find the day uneventful. She had to busy herself with rearranging cabinets to keep from growing bored. When dinner finally rolled around, She flew out of the Infirmary like a caged bird set free. She had a rather pleasant conversation with Madam Pince over lucky charm books while glancing over the table at Professor Snape. A few times they caught each other's eye and she would either nod or smile politely. He finished before her and she watched as he stood, held his hand up to signal one hour, then headed for the dungeons. Claira left soon after and made for her rooms. She wanted to take a quick shower before heading to the lab. Not that she was expecting any type of physical exchange with the man, she just wanted to feel clean after a long day.  
  
She reached the dungeons twenty minutes early. She didn't want to aggravate him by showing up late. When she approached the door, she found a note clung to it. He wanted to conduct the testing in his study. Stuffing the parchment into her pocket, Claira set off to find it. So much for being on time, she had no idea where his study was. She journeyed down several tunnels turning the knobs on each door she came across. Most of them were locked. Luckily, she came across a Slytherin student on her way to her dormitory. The girl showed her the way then quickly rushed off. Claira held her breath while she knocked on the door.  
  
" Come in, you're late. "  
  
Damn he sounded pissed. Well this time it wasn't her fault. He was to blame for not giving her proper instructions. Yeah, that sounded like a good argument. She adjusted her posture and reached for the handle. Before she could firmly grab it, the door flung opened.  
  
" Miss Bell my patience is wearing thin. As per our agreement, I expect you to be on time. " He stepped back allowing her to enter before clicking the door shut.  
  
Suddenly an argument didn't sound as appealing to her.  
  
The study was large and well organized. A huge desk to her right was covered with neatly stacked scrolls and parchment. Straight ahead was a beautifully crafted fireplace surrounded by two large leather couches and a comfortable looking armchair. A gorgeous antique rug was spread upon the floor just below the stone mantel. Blazing flames lit the room with a warm glow, casting shadows upon the green and silver tapestries that lined the walls. Claira instantly fell in love with her surroundings.  
  
Professor Snape glided to his desk, slung his cloak over the back of his chair, and sat down.  
  
" Sit. "  
  
He pointed to the small chair on the opposite side.  
  
Claira frowned, she would much rather have sat by the warm fire on one of those comfy looking couches.  
  
Reaching into the drawer, Severus pulled out a tiny vile of clear liquid and set it in front of her. Grabbing a quill and piece of parchment, he scribbled down the date, time, and all types of data that wasn't really necessary before looking up to meet Claira's gaze. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since they parted that night in the Entrance Hall. Avoiding her clearly wasn't the solution to his little problem. The truth was he enjoyed her company.  
  
" Are you familiar with this potion? "  
  
Claira examined the bottle then uncorked the top and held it under her nose. She placed it back down on the desk and shook her head.  
  
" No. It doesn't smell like anything's even in there. "  
  
" Well what you don't smell is the strongest truth serum in existence, Veritaserum. It's virtually undetectable. This particular batch has been altered slightly to protect the interrogator's identity. What I have done is combined it with a memory draught. When the opposing party consumes it, he will speak only the truth. However, after half an hour, the potion will erase his memory back to the moment it first hit his tongue. He would have no recollection of his confessions, who examined him, or where it was even done. "  
  
Claira raised her brow nervously. She was about to spill her beans and not even remember what she said or what he even asked for that matter. This made her extremely uncomfortable.  
  
" What exactly are you planning on asking me Professor? "  
  
" Don't worry Miss Bell, I assure you only relevant and appropriate questions will be administered. Everything that transpires here will be written down in my notes, if you like, I will show them to you afterwards. "  
  
Claira nodded her head in approval. She then picked up the vile and held it to her lips. Severus flipped over a small hour glass on the edge of the desk and Claira drank the serum in one full swallow. Within seconds, she fell into a trance like state and sat motionless. Professor Snape began the examination.  
  
" What is your name? "  
  
" Claira Madison Bell. "  
  
" How old are you? "  
  
" Twenty-four. "  
  
" How much do you currently weigh? "  
  
" One hundred and twenty-two pounds. "  
  
" Are you or do you ever plan to be a follower of Voldemort? "  
  
" No. "  
  
Severus continued to scribble down notes.  
  
" Have you ever lied to me? "  
  
" Yes. "  
  
Severus instantly raised his gaze from the parchment.  
  
" Explain. "  
  
" The night we were working on the Trechinitis vaccine, you asked me why I neglected to add wormwood, nightshade, and lacewing to my cauldrons. I responded with 'oops'. The truth was I had become too busy watching your hands and wondering if you took as much care in love making as you did with potions. "  
  
He raised his brow and smirked. He decided not to record that question in his notes. Well, not the ones he was going to show Claira anyway. The interrogation continued until only five minutes remained. He placed his quill back in the ink bottle and pushed his notes aside. He sat and stared at her for a few minutes then grinned.  
  
" Do you find me attractive Miss Bell? "  
  
" Yes."  
  
" How many men have you been with.....sexually? "  
  
" None, I'm still a virgin. "  
  
His mouth dropped in shock. He found this very hard to believe.  
  
" Have you ever thought of me....sexually? "  
  
" Yes. "  
  
" Really. Well Claira, aren't you the naughty girl? "  
  
" Yes. "  
  
Severus laughed out loud. That wasn't intended to be a question. Though he was thoroughly pleased with her answers so far.  
  
" How often do you touch yourself in a sexual manner? "  
  
He had gone too far and he knew it. This was a strict violation of trust.  
  
" It depends. I usually do it whenever I take a shower. "  
  
Guilty as he felt, it was nothing compared to his aching arousal beneath the desk. He glanced at the hour glass, she only had thirty seconds of memory left. He quickly placed his notes back in front of him and snatched the quill from the ink jar. Three, two, one.......He watched as she came around. She slowly began to look around, then paused on the empty bottle on the table.  
  
" I....I don't remember swallowing. Did you already ask the questions? "  
  
" Yes, you did well. You may read over my notes if you like. "  
  
He pushed them across the desk and watched as she scanned through them. After she finished, Claira lifted her head and smiled, relieved he hadn't asked anything too personal.  
  
" Is there anything else I need to do? " She met his gaze. He was staring at her oddly.  
  
" No that's all I need for tonight. You may go. "  
  
Claira stood and walked to the door.  
  
" Where do you want me to meet you Thursday? "  
  
" Here. Make sure you arrive on time. "  
  
" Goodnight Professor." She gave him one last smile before she left.  
  
Rising from his chair, Severus headed for his bed chambers........ He had a sudden urge to take a long hot shower of his own. 


	15. Journey to the Outside

Note to readers: *Sighs* If you looked up fluff in the dictionary, you would find this chapter in large bold print. The next chapter will be much darker. In this one, I wanted to make Snape likable. I think he's just a misunderstood male. It's not totally impossible to think that he may have actual feelings. We only get to see Snape through a child's eye in the HP books. This is my interpretation through an adult's. He's only human after all....Well fictitiously human anyway! Love it, hate it, but please review it.........Oh and thanks to all who left feedback. I really enjoy reading them.  
  
Chapter: 15  
  
Madam Pomfrey gave Claira Thursday afternoon off. Things were eerily quiet around the castle that week. She supposed it was a good sign that students weren't hurting themselves, but if this continued she would be out of a job. Heading down the corridor carrying a small basket, she was soon joined by Padfoot who took to trodding at her heel. Claira stopped to pet him for a few moments then continued walking. She had already made up her mind where she was going. She needed some sunlight and fresh air. Pushing open one of the large oak doors leading outside, Claira stepped through and squinted her eyes. The sun was shining bright and the sky was a beautiful baby blue. In the distance, she saw small figures flying around in circles and loops. 'Madam Hooch must be giving her lessons today'. She took her time exploring the grounds. She visited the Quidditch pitch, walked along the edge of the Dark Forest, and skipped stones across the lake. The air felt warm and breezy against her paled skin, and she smiled. Teasing Padfoot's ear, she taunted him into chasing her around an open field, feeling extremely energetic and playful.  
  
Professor Snape watched Claira from the greenhouse window. She was wearing a cute little yellow sun dress that blew dangerously high up her thighs in the breeze. The wind whipped through her golden brown hair as she ran back and forth across the meadow. Merlin, she was a beautiful creature. He memorized her every move. She had a sort of graceful clumsiness about her. Instantly his mind was swept into a blissful day dream......... He was chasing her across the field. When he gained ground, he caught her by the waist and they stumbled to the ground laughing. Her hair spread all around as she lay beneath him on the lush green grass. She smiled at him just before he gently kissed her lips. His hands explored her body, tracing the soft curves of her hips and breasts. She moaned as he slowly ran his tongue over her neck and shoulders.......  
  
" PROFESSOR....."  
  
" WHAT!" He whirled around and growled. He rarely had the chance to indulge in pleasant thoughts such as this. Can't he have one bloody moment to himself?  
  
" Hey don't you snap at me! You're the one taking up my time! Waltzing in her demanding this and that. I aught to make you dig up your own silly ginger roots and gobbling beats!" Professor Sprout fumed as she shoved a small box at him and huffed off.  
  
" Shrew. " He hissed under his breath as he left the greenhouse.  
  
Exhausted, Claira settled under a large shady oak tree and opened her basket. Padfoot flopped down next to her and rested his head in her lap as she sorted through its contents. She pulled out a small cloth and smoothed it out over the grass. Gliding her hand back in, she pulled out a box of walnut brownies and neatly placed them on the sheet.  
  
" Did I ever mention I'm particularly fond of walnut brownies?"  
  
Claira glanced up and smiled widely. Professor Snape was standing in front of her with his arms crossed. He wasn't exactly dressed for a day out in the sun. He was wearing his usual black robes and cloak which was billowing behind him in the breeze.  
  
" Good afternoon, Professor. You're welcome to join me if you like. I have plenty to go around. "  
  
" Well....if you insist. "  
  
He grabbed Padfoot by the scuff of the neck and pulled him off her lap. The large black dog snapped at his arm during the transaction and Severus cursed.  
  
" Damnit! Go back to the castle you stupid mutt. "  
  
Padfoot snarled at him one last time before angrily trodding off.  
  
" Do you have to be so mean to him? Why don't you like him anyway? He's just a dog. " Claira asked, a little taken aback by his behavior.  
  
" I have my reasons. "  
  
He crouched down and sat next to her under the shade. He leaned over and picked up a brownie.  
  
" So, what are you going to poison me with tonight? " She asked playfully with a grin.  
  
" Timed sleeping draughts. You'll be testing them for the next few weeks. "  
  
He took a bite of his brownie and sat back against the tree. He watched as one of the broom riders spun into a wild frenzy and dropped out of the sky.  
  
" Any side effects I should know about? " Claira wondered as she dug in the basket for a pitcher of pumpkin juice.  
  
" Nothing serious, perhaps a little dizziness and blurred vision. " He answered casually, while finishing off his brownie. He brushed his hand off on his pant's leg and accepted a small cup from her. She tilted the pitcher over it and filled it up. She did the same with hers then put it down and leaned back.  
  
They sat in silence for a while admiring their surroundings. Out of nowhere, Claira began chuckling. Severus raised a brow at her and followed her gaze. She was staring up into the sky.  
  
" See that cloud there, it looks like....well a very obscene hand gesture! " She then began snickering again.  
  
He searched the sky but saw nothing that even slightly resembled her accusation. Seeing that he couldn't spot it, Claira scooted over next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She pointed her finger up and began tracing the outline of the vagabond cloud.  
  
" Well, it's sort of faded now but you can still make it out. "  
  
Her breath felt hot against his neck and he was slowly becoming unhinged by the closeness of her body. He struggled to concentrate on the shape but it was no use. His mind was shamefully stuck on the fact that her breast was brushing up against his arm. Fearing she may pull away any second, he made up something stupid to hold her attention.  
  
" I still can't see it, but the one next to it looks like Hagrid with his head lopped off. "  
  
Bingo! She fell across his lap laughing and he smirked down at her with a malicious glint in his eyes. His gaze drifted to her thighs where her dress had hiked up in the commotion. Upon closer inspection, he caught a glimpse of white lace panties and drew in a deep breath. His smile quickly faded as his body began reacting to her. Gently grabbing her shoulders, Severus lifted her off and stood up.  
  
" Is something wrong?.... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"  
  
" You did nothing wrong Claira. Its just time I returned to the castle. I'll see you after dinner. "  
  
He retrieved his box and sauntered off, leaving Claira to feel very confused and put out.  
  
After the feast that night, Claira found her way down to Professor Snape's study. The door stood ajar so she pushed it open and walked in. Severus was sitting on his desk fiddling with three glass vials. Each one was filled with a different color substance, blue, purple, and green. Glancing up, he selected the green bottle and approached her.  
  
He was glad to see her out of the sun dress and into more concealing garments. Not that she wasn't just as attractive wearing blue jeans and a black button up sweater, it was just less distracting. He handed her the vile and instructed her to take a seat on one of the sofas.  
  
" We are going to start with a simple five minute draft. Make sure you're comfortable before you drink it. The draught works instantly. "  
  
He watched as Claira stretched her body along the full length of the couch. When she finally relaxed, she brought the vial to her lips and drank it. Severus immediately crossed the room and flipped over the hour glass. He sat down behind his desk and scribbled a few notes on a scroll. The room was silent with the exception of the cracking flames. Five minutes breezed by and Claira began to stir. She sat up and looked around the room in a daze. She felt as if she had slept for hours.  
  
Severus stood and walked over to the edge of the couch.  
  
" How do you feel? "  
  
" Dizzy. How long was I out? It feels hours. "  
  
She held her palm to her forehead and rubbed her eyes.  
  
" You've had precisely five minutes of sleep. Here, take this. "  
  
He handed her another vial filled with orange liquid.  
  
Claira guzzled it and instantly felt better. She waited patiently on the leather sofa while Professor Snape completed his notes. When he presented her with the second bottle, she followed the same procedure.  
  
Instead of returning to his desk, Severus strode over to his armchair and settled in front of the fireplace. He watched the flames dance wildly for a while then turned to Claira. He studied her features, her hair, her body......her breasts. He imagined what they might look like unclothed. Perfect no doubt, like the rest of her. She was flawless, untainted. Could she ever take a favored interest in him? He was just the opposite, bitter, loathsome......depraved. He had nothing to offer her but grief and misery. " I hope you're not planning on using that as a pick up line, if so then you're in big trouble!" a small voice in his head taunted. He snorted loudly. Claira shuffled on the sofa. The potion was wearing off. It was hard to believe thirty minutes had already passed. She opened her eyes but remained in the same position. She stared at him. Her eyes were slightly glazed and distant.  
  
" Claira, how do you feel now? " She continued to stare and smiled with content.  
  
" Relaxed, calm, happy, even a bit lazy. Do you think I could borrow some of this stuff? " Claira smirked.  
  
He grinned and shook his head.  
  
" Definitely not. It has the propensity to be quite addictive. "  
  
He rose to continue his notes.  
  
Claira found her way over to a nearby bookcase. She thumbed through the pages but most of the books were written in a foreign language and contained strange symbols.  
  
" Ancient Arabic. "  
  
Severus took the book out of her hand and replaced it on the shelf. He offered her the third and final vial. She strolled back to her new bed and slumped into it. She held the bottle up for a toast then swigged it as if it were a shot glass. He stood over her and watched her sleep for a while. He envied her peaceful rest. He then fell back into his armchair and stared into the fire once again. He let out a long heavy sigh and massaged his temples. His eyes grew dark and cold as he thought about the Sunday to come. Sunday was Halloween. Sunday was a lot of things. The last day of the month, the day he had betrayed Voldemort.............maybe even the last day of his life. 


	16. All Hallow's Day

Note to readers: I love all your reviews!!! Yes this chapter is dark, yes I will make the next one much lighter, and yes things are going to get very.......VERY.....physical. Soon I promise!  
  
Chapter: 16  
  
Claira opened her door Sunday morning to a hallway of excitement. The students were running up and down the corridors shouting and laughing happily. It was All Hallows Day. From what she gathered, it was one of the biggest nights of the year here at Hogwarts. She couldn't help feeling a little cheery herself for she also looked forward to the evening's festivities. There were rumors floating around that Dumbledore had ordered live entertainment.  
  
Claira had to dodge exploding snaps as she fought her way to the Infirmary. Once inside, she gasped. Almost every bed was filled. She walked up and down the rows, relieved that there wasn't anything too serious. Finally settling on a fourth year girl with a cat's tail, she set to work. New patients entered throughout the day, Claira had to skip lunch just to keep up with the demand. Madam Pomfrey took to deducting points from any student who arrived with an injury caused by carelessness. The crowd finally died down about nine thirty, but it wasn't until ten forty five that they were able to join the feast.  
  
Claira's eyes widened as she passed through the double doors. The Hall was dimly lit, glowing decorations covered every wall, and the tables were all piled high with treats and party favors. A large stage had been magically added as well. It rose up high behind the staff table and flashed neon lights in perfect rhythm with the band. There was only one thing missing......Professor Snape. His chair was empty and Claira frowned. She wondered where he could possibly be on a night like this. She sat down and quickly ate her meal, watching the double doors intently for any sign that Severus may walk through them. Finally giving up on the theory, she left her chair and participated in a small crowd of dancing students and teachers. Afterwards, she played games and even won a festive colored witch's hat for transfiguring the most creative pumpkin out of a watermelon seed. Exhausted, she sat back down at the staff table to rest.  
  
Midnight rolled around and all the students started filing out. By twelve thirty, the Hall was pretty much empty with the exception of a few staff members and a very tired band. They were all busy packing up their gear and thanking Dumbledore for allowing them to play. Claira decided to leave at this point, however, she didn't immediately retire to her rooms. She wanted to stop by the dungeons and find out why Professor Snape hadn't attended the party.  
  
The dungeon was extremely dark. Only a few floating candles lit her way and there was something haunting about the way the tunnels ahead disappeared into the shadows. She almost turned back, but it was her curiosity that forced her to continue on. After taking a few wrong turns and losing her way twice, Claira finally ended her journey in front of Professor Snape's study. She paused before knocking, she hadn't thought up a good enough excuse that would justify her bothering him in the middle of the night. Perhaps the truth would be the best way to go. She held her breath and wrapped on the door. It instantly creaked open at the force of her knuckles. It hadn't been closed in the first place. Peeking inside, she found the room deserted. She entered the study and called out his name. There was no answer. Throwing up her hands, she turned to leave. As Claira whirled around, a large black form on the floor in front of the fireplace caught her eye. She approached it cautiously. Her body suddenly froze in shock when she discovered the form's identity. It was Professor Snape. He was laying face down on his stomach with an empty bottle of fire whiskey next to his hand. She rolled her eyes and kneeled down by his side to wake him up. As she turned him over, her eyes immediately widened in terror. The whole front of his vest was soaked in blood. Trembling, Claira brought her fingers to his neck. After a few seconds of searching, she found his pulse. It was weak, but it was definitely there.  
  
Severus struggled to regain consciousness. After a few minutes, he was able to make out a blurred silhouette of someone sitting next to him. His ears were ringing, but he could still make out the sound of his name being called. His head was spinning in a daze of confusion and he tried to recall the night's events. 'What the bloody devil was he doing on the floor and why did his chest burn like hell's fire?' Then he remembered.  
  
Claira grabbed two handfuls of garment and pulled. The buttons snapped off his robes and soared through the air. Brushing the folds aside, she gasped. Long deep gashes were carved across his entire torso to form some type of symbol. Her eyes shifted to trace the bloody outline of a large serpent snaked through the mouth of a human skull. The image was frightening. Thinking back, Claira recalled seeing that exact same branding on his forearm her first night in the Infirmary. It was the Dark Mark. Pushing the garments past his shoulder, her sight became blinded by a red glowing light. The symbol on his arm was radiating and she instantly made the connection between the two. She had to think fast. He had lost a dangerous amount of blood already. Her first instinct was to cast a floating charm on him, but he would be dead long before they reached the Entrance Hall. The curse was too powerful to vanquish with her wand and unless Madam Pomfrey miraculously appeared through the door, she was on her own. Claira then knew what she had to do. It was risky even for her own well being, but she had to try. There were no other options left and he would surely die if she did nothing.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Claira straddled his waist and closed her eyes. She placed her hands over his chest and whispered several incantations that caused her hands to glow a bright blue. Only the strongest of healers used this method of curing, but even they knew better than to try it on an affliction this serious. Already, Claira felt weak and physically drained. It required unprecedented amounts of energy to perform the magic. She forced herself to continue as she began tracing the slash marks with her fingers. Slowly, the wounds began to mend under her touch.  
  
Severus jerked in pain each time contact was made. Forcing his eyes to focus, he immediately recognized the blurred silhouette to be Claira. His gaze dropped to his chest and was astonished to discover she had performed the Caduceus Aura. He wanted to stop her but he didn't have enough strength to push her off. He doubted Dumbledore himself would attempt such a feat. The risk was far too great, especially for her, and he damn sure wasn't worth it. He tried to protest but the words wouldn't come out. All he could do was lay there and watch as she needlessly drained herself of energy.  
  
The curse was overpowering her healing. Seconds after Claira mended a line, it would begin to glow red and slowly form again. All she was managing to do was buy him some time. Dammit! She was too weak to continue on like this. Her eyes shot to the Dark Mark on his arm, without thinking she clasped her hand over it. Immediately, she felt a jolt of electricity surge through her body and she cried out in pain. Unwilling to give in, she held on until it ran its course. After the pain finally ceased, she lifted her palm and was relieved to see the mark now glowing bright blue. Claira smiled triumphantly then reestablished her post on his chest. She quickly began racking her fingers over the gouges in a swift urgent motion. Professor Snape groaned loudly in anguish and tightly gripped her thighs in his hands to ease the pain. His fingers were bruising her legs but she ignored the discomfort and pressed on. Eventually her gaze met his and their eyes remained locked until her lids began to fall heavy in exhaustion. Claira's head spun wildly as she struggled to concentrate. Without warning, her body went limp and she collapsed on top of him. Everything went black.  
  
Severus could hear his heart pounding against his chest as he lay there in silence. Claira's body was draped over him lifelessly and he was too weak to do a damn thing about it. His eyes were falling heavy once again and with his last burst of energy, he whispered " Claira" before he drifted back into unconsciousness....... 


	17. The Dueling Match

Not to readers: Once again thanks for all your reviews! I try my best to post at least one chapter a day. I received a lot of reviews describing this story as fun to read. Well I'll tell you. I'm having just as much fun writing it! Sorry I couldn't post this chapter yesterday I got caught up working on my wands. Is she going to do a shameless promotion now, you ask? Okay so I am. If anyone is interested in owning a real wood magic wand like Ollivanders. Check out my auctions on ebay. My user name is hay99 and my wands are listed under 'Wizard Wood Magic Wand' They measure 14-15 inches, all different designs from classic to wood burned graphics on the handle. They also come with sheaths and fabric lined boxes......I now apologize for that. I just figured one of you may be interested. Now on with the show!  
  
Chapter: 17  
  
Severus slowly came around to the sound of a woman's voice. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself laying in a bed disrobed. Madam Pomfrey was hovering over him weary eyed and somber.  
  
" Severus, can you hear me.......Severus.....wake up!"  
  
She swatted at his face a few times before he caught her hand in mid flight.  
  
" Poppy please, I've had my eyes open for the past few minutes or so. Do you think you could possibly refrain yourself from torturing me any further?"  
  
He released her and brought his palm to his forehead. He had a killer headache and the bright lights luminating the Infirmary weren't helping.  
  
" I'm glad to see you are feeling better, Severus. "  
  
Professor Snape instantly turned his head towards the sound of Dumbledore's voice. He was sitting on the opposite side of the bed next to him. Severus glanced down and saw Claira laying on it motionless. He immediately sat up and made to stand, only to be forcefully pushed back down by Madam Pomfrey.  
  
" I don't think so. You stay right where you are mister! "  
  
" Dammit woman! I'm fine. " He shifted to the other side and she cut him off.  
  
" You're fine when I say you're fine and not a moment sooner. Don't make me shackle you to the bed, you know I'll do it. After what happened last night, you're lucky to even be here. Now stay put! "  
  
She leered over him stirnly and he had no choice but to lean back against the bed post in submission.  
  
" I assure you Professor, Miss Bell is going to be quite all right. She only suffers from exhaustion. A few more hours of sleep should do the trick. " Albus assured him, while examining Claira through half moon spectacles. He was observing her with extreme fascination.  
  
" She summoned the Caduceus Aura, Albus. "  
  
Severus's tone was solemn. He didn't believe he deserved such a selfless act of kindness.  
  
" I know Severus. I was there. "  
  
Professor Snape's face immediately twisted up in anger. Dumbledore held his hand up to silence him before he even had the chance to speak.  
  
" By the time I arrived in your study, she had already conjured the magic. I understand your indignation but do realize Severus, no one goes through life without having to be in the debt of at least one person......"  
  
Professor Snape rolled his eyes and folded his arms defensively. That wasn't the reason why he was upset with Dumbledore. He was mad he didn't stop her from hurting herself. Now he had to sit there and listen to a 'father knows best' lecture. Oh well, perhaps it's better than Albus knowing he may have some type of feelings for the girl.  
  
" .......There are people in this world that care about you and the sooner you accept this concept, the better off you'll be. " Dumbledore looked back down at Claira and pondered. " Now what's curious to me is how Claira managed to summon enough power to reverse Voldemort's curse. Look at your arm Severus...."  
  
Professor Snape glanced down at his forearm then winced his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly. The Dark Mark that had plagued his arm for more than twenty years was now outlined in white and barely visible against his pale skin. He sat gaping in disbelief for several long minutes before turning back to Albus.  
  
" If this means what I think it means, then Voldemort-"  
  
" Has been outwitted. Please excuse me Severus, I need some private time to think this through."  
  
Dumbledore rose and made his way to the door.  
  
Only moments after he left, Claira began to stir. She blinked her eyes a few times before finally opening them fully to her surroundings. She immediately recognized the Infirmary and made to sit up. Madam Pomfrey darted across the room to hold her down.  
  
" Don't move from that spot until I say so. "  
  
Claira heard a loud snort from the bed next to her and shifted her gaze. Professor Snape was staring at her with a sardonic grin on his face. She had to literally fight the urge to hop the beds and hug him. He was okay, no, he looked better than okay.  
  
" Professor! You're......I mean.....are you.....I'm so.........how did you.......ARGH! " She buried her face in her hands and tried to collect her thoughts.  
  
" Claira calm down.......and you! "  
  
Madam Pomfrey stalked over to Severus's bed and tore his curtains closed.  
  
" I don't need you distracting her right now. Hush! "  
  
Claira heard him mutter something that sounded rather nasty before falling silent. She chuckled and layed her head back down on the pillow. She spent the next few minutes under close examination in which Madam Pomfrey checked her eyes, reflexes, and mental stability. Everything was in top condition much to the mediwitch's surprise. She finally allowed her to sit up, but ordered her to remain in bed until noon. Severus received the same sentence, and after an hour of being annoyingly fussed over, they both were finally left only.  
  
Claira glanced over at Professor Snape. He was staring at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his neck on the pillow. His chest was fully exposed and she traced the contours of his muscles with her eyes. Her gaze traveled down to the thin clingy white sheet covering the lower half of his body. She could tell he was pantless and wearing dark colored boxers. She wondered if they were silk or cotton as she smiled wickedly to herself. Her brow raised in a compliment to the rather large bulge at the base of his undergarments and her eyes lingered there just a little too long before journeying back up to his face. Claira suddenly froze in panic when she met his gaze. The slight smirk on his lips told her that he must have been watching her the whole time. She quickly looked away in embarrassment and tried to act busy by fluffing her pillow. He was about to say something when Madam Pomfrey walked over.  
  
" All right, you two can go. But if you have any problems, any at all, I want you back here immediately. Claira, don't worry with the Infirmary. You may return to work when you feel up to it. Severus......well you're going to do whatever you want regardless of what I have to say anyway, but please try to take it easy. Now away with you. "  
  
She shooed Claira off as she pulled Severus's curtain around so he could dress in private.  
  
Severus canceled their testing sessions for that week. He wanted to make sure she was in perfect health before they continued the research. He was back to passing glances across the dinner table and avoiding her in the corridors. Things were quiet around the castle. By the time Sunday came about, Claira had grown quite bored with the lack of activity that seemed to be hovering around. At least she had Monday night's potion session to look forward to.  
  
When Claira entered the Infirmary the next morning, she was yet again disappointed to learn that her plans with Professor Snape were nullified. Madam Pomfrey instead, ordered her to spend the evening in the Great Hall monitoring the Dueling Club. Dumbledore announced the exciting news to the students during lunch. Things definitely perked up around the castle from that point on. It was mostly the older students who planned on participating in the event. It was their big chance to show off all the combat skills they had learned over the past few years. The younger students, with the exception of a few cocky ones, just wanted to watch the sparks fly against rival houses. It sounded like fun to Claira and she was glad Madam Pomfrey allowed her to attend.  
  
The Great Hall was packed with excited students chattering and placing bets on each other, secretly of course. Claira caught a few as she walked in but turned the other cheek. She glanced around the Hall in awe. All the tables were gone, and in their place lay a large dueling plank that rose about five feet above the crowd. Claira had taken dueling classes during her summer breaks. She was actually quite good and held the undefeated champion title at her school. On the stage stood Professor Moore, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Professor Snape. They were engaged in a conversation when Claira climbed up the steps and greeted them.  
  
" Good evening Professors! "  
  
" Ah, Miss Bell. Good, you're here! How are you love? "  
  
Professor Moore didn't give her the opportunity to answer his question. He was already facing the students with his hands up to silence them.  
  
" Now now everyone, shoosh! We are finally ready to begin. "  
  
The whole room filled with loud cheers and clapping.  
  
" Yes I know we are all excited, but please listen carefully to my instructions. "  
  
His speech turned into senseless babbling about proper this and proper that. When he finally concluded his lecture, he called upon two volunteers for a quick demonstration. Claira exited the stage and stood by the stairs to watch. They went over stances and strategies for over an hour. Everyone in the Hall was bored out of their minds.  
  
" Come on, let's see some action! " One of the students shouted out.  
  
The rest of the crowd immediately joined in the outburst and the room instantly turned into a noisy frenzy of frustration. Professor Snape had to fire a loud explosion in the air to silence the mob. He then pushed Professor Moore off the stage and took over.  
  
" One hundred points will be deducted from each of your houses for that pathetic display of disrespect. "  
  
The Hall filled with angry murmurs and Severus grinned maliciously.  
  
" Two hundred points to any student who can successfully disarm my wand in a duel."  
  
The crowd instantly cheered and rallied together to choose the best candidates. Professor Snape took his position on the plank and waited with his arms crossed for the first student to gather up enough courage to challenge him.  
  
Finally, a seventh year Gryffindor boy approached the stage and slowly climbed the steps. He looked absolutely terrified as he held up his wand to initiate the duel. They both took their stances and waited for Lee Jordan to count down.  
  
" Three....two.....one!"  
  
BOOM.  
  
The young boy was blasted backwards and landed with a heavy thud on the furthest corner of the stage. The duel was over before it had a chance to begin.  
  
" Next."  
  
A Slytherin boy daringly hopped up on the stage and raised his wand. He suffered the same fate as the last and several more followed. The crowd fell silent as they watched Harry Potter climb the stairs. He had a determined look on his face and he stared at Professor Snape with utter loathing. Severus curled his lip up into a sneer, though he was smiling on the inside. He had been waiting seven years for this opportunity. The two raised their wands and impatiently waited for the que.  
  
" Three.....Show him Harry!......Two.....One! "  
  
Harry had barely opened his mouth before a bright green streak of light hit him hard in the chest. He flew violently backwards off the stage. All the slytherins began to cheer and clap loudly. Claira felt a light smack on her rear and instantly whipped around. Everyone behind her was shouting and jumping around in a rally. She shrugged her shoulders and supposed someone had just bumped into her by accident. When she turned back around, Malfoy smirked triumphantly at Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
It was no use. Professor Snape was lightening fast on the draw. A few more students gave it a try after Harry, but failed miserably. When none of the other students dared to challenge him, Professor Snape snorted in disgust.  
  
" That was pathetic. One would think that after seven years of study, at least one of you would have managed to cast a blocking charm. " He was about to exit the stage when Professor Moore approached the plank and raised his wand.  
  
" Now that you've proven yourself against a bunch of inexperienced children, Severus, let's see how you fair against a real wizard! "  
  
There was a moment of silence then a sudden roar of applause and shouts of encouragement broke out. It was absolute mayhem in the Great Hall.  
  
The look on Professor Snape's face was deadly. Claira decided she should go and stand by the other side of the stage. Professor Moore would most likely be needing her assistance when this was through. The two men took their positions and waited for the count.  
  
" Ladies and gentlemen.....LET'S GET READY TO RUMMMMMMMBLE!!!.....Sorry Professor. Wands at the ready.....three....two.....ONE! "  
  
Before Professor Moore could finish his first incantation, Severus hit him with three consecutive curses. The first one shot him straight up into the air. The second spell suspended him in flight and the third curse flipped him several times before smashing him hard against the platform. The entire slytherin house clapped and cheered while Claira ran up the stage and knelt down next to him to see if he was okay. She checked his eyes, which she discovered to be distant and glazy. He sat up and held his head in confusion. She feared he might have a concussion.  
  
" Come on Professor, I'll escort you to the hospital wing. "  
  
She attempted to pull him to his feet, but he snatched his arm away from her and stood up on his own. He staggered a few steps then tried to save face by walking as straight as he could down the steps. Several students laughed as he tripped over the last footing and dove nose first into the carpet. When he got back up, he quickly escaped through the double doors. Claira couldn't help but smirk a little.  
  
" Care to give it go, Miss Bell? " Severus asked her smugly.  
  
She immediately shook her head. There was no way she was going to embarrass herself like that! She hadn't practiced in months. A couple students began egging her on and soon, the entire room was rooting for her. She kept shaking her head no and attempted several times to walk off the stage.  
  
" Don't worry Claira, I'll be gentle....though it really isn't my style."  
  
He winked at her devilishly and twirled his wand in his fingers awaiting her approval.  
  
The students kept pushing her back onto the plank until she finally gave in and withdrew her wand from under her pant's leg. They all cheered wickedly, which she found to be a little unnerving. Professor Snape stalked over to her grinning and held his wand up to initiate the duel. Claira raised hers in acceptance and they both turned around to walk in opposite directions. The crowd began snickering loudly as Claira took her stance. She stood with one bent arm in the air, and the other one held straight out with her wand pointed towards the floor. It was the only position she could think of that would enable her to swiftly block his first attack. She had to use a defensive strategy if she wanted to last more than two seconds with him.  
  
" Wands at the ready......three...two...ONE!"  
  
Severus fired a blue streak of light at Claira that was only intended to knock her backwards. She performed a blocking reflector charm at the same time which successfully shielded her and sent his curse right back at him. He ducked just in time to watch it pass over his head. She immediately followed up with three counter attacks. He managed to block two, but stumbled backwards on the third. The crowd roared in awe and clapped vigorously. He had definitely underestimated her skills. He regained his composure and retaliated with several consecutive spells. She shielded most of them and dodged the rest with talented body maneuvers. The game was on. They began casting more powerful spells at each other that brightly lit up the Great Hall. Sparks were flying all over the place and loud explosions could be heard down the corridor. Madam Pince was passing by and immediately peered inside. She watched the duel for a few moments before she took off down the hallway to the teachers' lounge.  
  
Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall immediately came barreling through the double doors to watch the match. They were amazed to see Claira holding her own against Professor Snape.  
  
" I hope she wins..." Madam Hooch whispered to Minerva. " He could use a good thrashing! "  
  
Professor McGonagall chuckled. Behind them, a few more Professors joined the crowd including the Headmaster. They all stood in the back of the Hall and watched with amusement.  
  
Three minutes into the duel, Claira and Severus began to weaken with exhaustion. Neither one was willing to give in or back down. It was by far the greatest match Hogwarts had ever seen.  
  
Suddenly, by some strange coincidence, they both shouted out the same spell at the exact same time.  
  
" EXPELLIARMUS! "  
  
Both their wands flew out of their hands and collided in mid air. They dropped back down and rolled together at the center of the stage. Severus and Claira stared at each other for a brief moment then made for their wands. They knew the first one to retrieve their's would automatically win the match. Professor Snape was a few strides closer and bent down. Claira saw this and lunged for him instead of her wand. She knocked him over just before he made the grab. He landed on his back empty handed with Claira laying on top of him out of breath. She lifted her head off his shoulder and stared down at him, her face was just inches from his.  
  
" I don't recall this being in the rule book Miss Bell. " Severus whispered softly. He was out of breath and very tired.  
  
" Yeah well, I don't like to lose and the rules never stated I couldn't use physical force! " She smiled down at him mischievously.  
  
Professor Snape grabbed her wrists and rolled her over so that he had her pinned beneath him.  
  
" Now that presents a problem Claira, because you see...I don't like to lose either. "  
  
He barely noticed the cat calls and whistles coming from the crowd around them. He was too busy enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his. He placed both her wrists in one of his hands and stretched out his other to grab his wand. Claira struggled with all her might to free herself. Her wrist somehow managed to slip through his grip and she caught his arm just in time. She then pushed him off and made for her wand. He tackled her and they began wrestling and rolling all over the center stage. Everyone was laughing and cheering them on until at last they broke apart and retrieved their wands simultaneously. Two blocks and three attacks later, Severus came out the victor. Claira went flying backwards, losing her wand and the match. 


	18. Behind Closed Doors

Note to readers: Sorry it took so long to post this chapter, I was actually debating on whether or not to submit it. Finally I said "what the hey" and clicked the button. I hope it's not too soon. Next chapter is going to be very steamy with a little twist and I can't wait to write it.  
  
To my reader SeverusSnape: I'm glad you caught onto my little innuendo! You'll find that I stick them in quite often throughout the story.  
  
Chapter: 18  
  
Claira slowly emerged from her steamy shower and draped a large towel around her body. It was Thursday evening and she had a potion's session to attend to. After selecting a matching set of black lace panties and bra, she dug through her wardrobe and pulled out a red cotton button up blouse. It was snug fitting and the low cut collar revealed a generous amount of cleavage. Claira smiled and reached back into her closet to retrieve a cute black pleated skirt that hung loosely around her thighs. Standing in front of the mirror, she snorted and slumped her shoulders. What was she doing? Her outfit was a bit much for the business type atmosphere she would be in. She glanced over at the hour glass on her night stand. Well it was too late to change now. She had just enough time to get herself down to the dungeons and into Professor Snape's study. On her way over, Claira rolled her eyes and hoped he wouldn't notice the extra special care she took in dressing herself tonight.  
  
The door to the study stood slightly ajar. She knocked on it lightly before carefully pushing it open.  
  
" Shut the door behind you. "  
  
Professor Snape was sitting at his desk sorting through paperwork. After he heard the door snap shut, he made the mistake of glancing up while reaching for his quill. His hand fumbled over the bottle, knocking it over and spilling its contents all over the scrolls in front of him. He cursed loudly as he jumped up from his chair to avoid the ink from staining his pants. He shot her an accusing sneer then quickly lifted up a stack of blotched folders to prevent them from further damage. But he gripped the wrong ends and the enclosed parchments slipped out and scattered all over the floor.  
  
" Dammit! "  
  
Her provocative clothing was causing him to act like a bumbling idiot. Snatching out his wand, he cleared the disaster area and sent the ink soaked folders over to the fireplace to dry.  
  
" Sorry, is this a bad time? I can come back later if you like. "  
  
Claira was standing innocently by the door with her hands folded in front of her. He gave her a sardonic glare then stalked over to the fireplace. He motioned for her to join him as he knelt down on the rug. She immediately walked over and sat beside him.  
  
" You're not getting off that easy. This is half your fault."  
  
He shoved a disorderly stack of papers into her hands.  
  
" So you are going to help clean up half the mess. "  
  
" What did I do? I was standing by the door the whole time! " Claira stated defensively.  
  
" You distracted me. " Professor Snape growled, as he sprawled out a number of scrolls across the carpet. Everything had to be sorted through and returned to its proper folder.  
  
She bit her tongue to prevent a further argument as she began separating and organizing the parchments. She mentally noted how soft the antique rug felt against her bare legs. It must have been worth a fortune. She turned her head slightly to watch Severus from the corner of her eye. He was shuffling through the paperwork in a very irritated manner. He really needed to lighten up. She smiled wickedly to herself as she picked up a piece of parchment and handed it to him to sort into a folder next to his leg. As he went to make the grab, Claira snatched it back causing him to miss. She tried to look nonchalant as he stared at her quizzically. After a few seconds, she handed it to him again. Just as his fingers grazed the surface, she reared it back and snickered.  
  
" Miss Bell, really. I refuse to participate in your silly little game of cat and mouse. Either hand me the paper properly, or place it in the bloody folder yourself. " Professor Snape snarled, while shooting her a sarcastic sneer.  
  
" I apologize Professor. I was out of line.....here. "  
  
She smiled at him sweetly and handed him the paper. He made to snatch it away from her nastily, only to have her whip it back just in time for him to snap at thin air. She couldn't control herself. She bursted out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. The look on his face was priceless. She rolled over onto the carpet in pain while Severus rolled his eyes and shook his head in disapproval.  
  
" Are you quite through? I'd like to finish this before the sun rises. "  
  
" Oh, don't be such a fuddy duddy. " Claira chortled out.  
  
Severus couldn't stop the slight curve from forming on his lips as he watched her. She was layed out on the floor before him, bright faced and beautiful. She didn't know it, but all that rolling around had caused a large portion of her skirt to hike up past her hip. His eyes traveled up the soft curves of her legs and lingered hypnotically on her inner thighs. She was wearing black lace panties, that much he could tell. Her skin looked warm and silky and he had to fight back the urge to prove his convictions. Her position on the rug left her far too vulnerable for his comfort. The fact that it would be all too easy to take advantage of the situation was making him painfully aroused. How depraved was he to actually be contemplating the idea?  
  
" Claira, I'm warning you now. If you do not cease this ridiculous behavior immediately, then-"  
  
" What? You'll challenge me to another duel? "  
  
Claira was pushing him to the limits, she knew it. If she could just get him to loosen up a little.  
  
" Perhaps. Maybe this time I won't be so easy on you. I think my leniency Monday has swelled your head to record proportions. "  
  
Claira sat up and raised her brows with a smile.  
  
" You call that easy? I seem to recall you sweating quite a river Professor.....Lose the wand and I bet I could take you down in a heart beat. "  
  
Was she nuts? Claira couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. She was flirting with him!  
  
" I think you're bluffing, Miss Bell. If not, then I'd like to see you prove it. "  
  
Professor Snape slowly made to stand and Claira's eyes widened. Was he really serious? Well if he was, then there was only one thing she could possibly do.......attack him off guard! Before he could straighten up, Claira sprang from the carpet and caught him around the mid section. Severus went flying backwards and they both hit the floor with a loud thud. He had a look of pure shock on his face as she pinned him to the rug in a straddling position. There was a long awkward moment of silence as they layed there staring at each other.  
  
Reaching deep into his robe, Claira grabbed his wand and stammered to her feet. She smiled with malice and waved it in front of him teasingly. When he made to retrieve it, she tore off across the room with him riding her heels. She whirled around his desk and shoved the wand down her blouse so that it was tucked firmly beneath her bra. She ducked under his arm and ran back towards the fireplace giggling. As she rounded one of the sofas, Severus caught her by the waist and tackled her down on top of it. They were both panting hard as Severus captured her wrists and pinned them to the cushion just above her head. The more Claira wiggled and squirmed beneath him, the harder he pressed his body into hers until she eventually was unable to move. He stared down into her eyes which were still blazing vibrantly from the excitement of the chase. He grinned slyly and lowered his gaze to her chest and the blouse that encompassed his wand. Shifting her hands together so that he could hold them with only one of his, Severus used his free hand to pop open the top button. Claira's eyes widened in disbelief.  
  
" You wouldn't dare! " Claira gasped while trying her best to suppress a smile.  
  
" Wouldn't I? " He took her comment as a challenge and proceeded to unclasp the second button. He met her gaze while doing so and was pleased to find her eyes glittering with amusement. This was all the permission he needed to free the next three.  
  
Claira drew in a deep breath as his hand slowly moved to part her blouse. She felt his body stiffen as his fingers grazed black lace. Her breathing grew heavy from her own excitement while she watched his eyes turn dark and intense.  
  
Severus gently tugged at the handle of his wand which rested snugly between Claira's breasts. He mentally noted how full and voluptuous they were and ached to see how they looked unclothed. Though, her lacy see through bra gave him a pretty good idea already. The reality of his position caused his heart to pound violently against his chest. What started out as a silly game of tag had quickly developed into a most arousing situation indeed. It was pointless to try and mask his excitement. His belt buckle had snagged her skirt when he first layed her down on the sofa, leaving only a thin layer of fabric between them. He could feel himself hard against her inner thigh and searched her face for any sign that she may be acceptable to his body's proposal.  
  
Claira's eyes threatened to close at the seductive teasing his fingers were performing on her skin. She glanced down to watch his thumb stroke the side of her breast as his hand inched the wand out further. Her jaw instantly dropped and her bottom lip began to quiver when she felt him fumble with the clasp at the front of her bra. Without her permission, her hips began to shift and move in an attempt to reposition the hard bulge that was pressing into her upper thigh. He must have noticed, because he adjusted himself accordingly. Claira almost cried out in delight when his arousal settled between her legs. Merlin, she wanted him. Her growing need was causing her head to spin in a frenzied daze of confusion.  
  
The room was still and silent with the exception of a crackling fire and the sounds of heavy breathing. She was responding to him. Her lips were slightly parted and her body was trembling beneath his. Somehow Severus managed to pop the clasp on her bra. His fingers slowly crept beneath the felayed fabric as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips barely met when a loud knock sounded at the door. They froze for a moment staring at each then quickly broke apart when the handle began to jiggle. They stumbled off the couch and Claira immediately pulled her shirt together and began refastening the buttons.  
  
Dumbledore raised his brow as he entered Professor Snape's study. Severus looked as though he was besides himself and Claira's face was thoroughly flushed over. Albus instantly got the impression that he had just walked in on something private. Judging by the state of Miss Bell's clothing, it was something very private indeed.  
  
" Forgive me for interrupting Severus, Claira. Professor, I need to speak with you.....I'm afraid it's rather urgent. "  
  
Claira got the hint and made for the door. She paused briefly to bid them a good night then quickly retreated to her chamber. Once inside, she flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. What just happened? 


	19. Under the Influence

Note to readers: *wipes forehead* Shew! It took me three days to write this chapter! I cracked up at all the reviews I received from the last chapter *sniffles*.....I love you guys. I had too much fun writing this so please review! I want to hear all comments!!!  
  
Chapter: 19  
  
Severus leaned against the shower wall and allowed the cold water to run down his face and body. It felt like ice against his skin and he nearly cried out in anguish. Several hours had passed since Claira left his study, yet the memory of their encounter was still fresh and vivid in his mind. He could almost smell the sweet lavender scent of her hair......feel the heat that had radiated off her body......hear the seductive sounds of her breathing, slightly tainted with arousal......He gritted his teeth. She was like an infectious disease, plaguing his mind and corrupting his thoughts. Twisting the knobs on the wall, Severus grabbed a bar of soap and lathered himself generously. He was beyond horny at this point and aside from the cold shower, there was only one other cure he knew of.........  
  
Claira tossed and turned all night long. She was confused yet excited, apprehensive yet eager, she was uncertain but knew she was falling for him. Everything happened so fast. One minute they were mere acquaintances and the next thing she knew, they were on the couch........well, acting more than friendly with each other. But, Merlin his hands! Just like his voice, pure silk. Her body still tingled in all the places his fingers had been. Many questions clouded her mind. Should she draw a line between business and pleasure? Had she provoked the whole thing herself? What would have happened if Dumbledore hadn't walked in on them?..........Was he as good with his lips as he was with his hands?  
  
Professor Snape sat behind his desk and gazed around the classroom. Not a lick of talent among them. The Granger girl was borderline, she possessed the knowledge but lacked the truly advanced skills. He snorted in disgust as his eyes fell upon Neville Longbottom. He was void of skill, knowledge, and common sense. Severus watched as he dropped his shrivelfig on the floor. When he thought no one was looking, he picked it up and dusted the debris off. Without skinning it, he tossed it into his already hissing cauldron. Professor Snape was about to cut loose on him when a minute owl grazed his ear. He snatched the bird in mid flight and jerked the note from his beak. He immediately recognized Madam Pomfrey's scribble and rushed through the letter. She was requesting that he send a student over with a vile of his strongest elixir. She had a headache from hell and had already used up her personal stash. Severus curled his lip wryly. 'Send a student Poppy? I think not. Something this serious requires my personal attention......and appearance.' He stood up and dismissed the class. While everyone shuffled out, he slipped into his private store room and stuffed the desired antidote into his robe.  
  
" Malfoy, see to it this door gets locked behind you....ten points to slytherin."  
  
Draco had purposely lagged behind with hopes that Professor Snape would say just that. He waited two whole weeks for this opportunity, and now he could finally set his plans into action.  
  
" Hey Draco, ain't we leavin? " Crabbe and Goyle were lurking by the archway awaiting his orders.  
  
" You two go on without me. I have something I need to do. "  
  
The two boys shrugged and left for the common room. Once they were completely out of sight, Draco rushed to the opposite side of the room and grabbed the handle leading to Snape's private stores. Crossing his fingers, he gave it a tug. Ha! Just as he suspected, Snape neglected to lock it in his hurry to get out of the dungeons. Malfoy slipped inside cautiously and began scanning the cabinets. After several minutes of searching, he finally spotted the stash of bottles labeled 'Memory Draughts'. Since he had already done his research on the subject, he snatched one of the red colored bottles and shoved it into his pocket. Then he scanned through the shelves that harbored forbidden ingredients, well forbidden to students anyway. Ingredients like..........satyre root! One of the most potent aphrodisiacs in existance. He stuffed a handful into his robe and crept back out into the classroom. Now all he had to do was combine the two and serve it up to his 'pigeon'. It would make her so damn horny she wouldn't care who or what was givin it to her. He got semi erected just thinking about. Then of course the memory draught would kick in and she'd forget the whole incident. The only problem was sneaking it into Claira's pumpkin juice without anyone seeing.  
  
Severus took a moment to straighten his robes before entering the Infirmary. Once inside, his eyes immediately darted in the direction of Claira. Her back was towards him and she was crouching down in front of an old beat up hutch. She had a rag in one hand and a rusted can of tarnish in the other. Madam Pomfrey spotted him and wisked over smiling.  
  
" Severus, you didn't have to come all the way up here just for me!" She was flattered, even though he hadn't once looked at her since he entered the hospital. "Why didn't you just-"  
  
What in the name of Merlin is she doing? " He was staring at Claira quizzically.  
  
" Attempting to rehabilitate that shabby old hutch. She's been doing odd little muggle things like that all day. I hope the poor dear isn't coming down with something......Now, may I please have that elixir before my head explodes? "  
  
Professor Snape reached into his pocket and handed her the draught without taking his gaze off Claira.  
  
" Thank you Severus. I can't begin to tell you how tedious these reports that Albus requested are. I told Minerva, he's off his rocker if he thinks I can complete all this paperwork by Monday. As if it isn't enough that I have the........."  
  
" That's fine. "  
  
Madam Pomfrey gaped at Professor Snape's rudeness as he brushed past her towards Claira. What's fine? Was she the only sane one in this blasted infirmary?  
  
Severus walked up behind Claira and leaned suavely against his arm on the hutch. He purposely spoke to her in a low suggestive tone, implying that he hadn't forgotten about their little encounter.  
  
" Good afternoon miss Bell ."  
  
Claira's heart instantly plunged into a fluttering fury. Reminding herself to breathe, she whirled around to meet Professor Snape's gaze with a smile. He was staring down at her with the darkest, most incredible set of eyes she had ever seen. They were midnight black with a mysterious sort of depth to them. Simply gorgeous.  
  
" Hello Professor. "  
  
" You know my dear, there are more efficient ways of going about that....Or have you completely forgotten how to use your wand? "  
  
Her skin was lightly glistened with sweat and her face, partly flushed with exhaustion. All that wiping had caused a few strands of brown wavy hair to fall into her eyes. Acting out of pure impulse, Severus lifted his hand and delicately brushed them back behind her ear. She blushed at him, and he immediately shifted his attention to her reddened cheeks. With the back of his fingers, he slowly traced her jawline down and around her chin. She parted her lips slightly in response and he growled softly to himself. On the other side of the room, Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat loudly. She was eyeing him suspiciously and he shot her the expression of ' he who cares the least ', but dropped his hand none the less.  
  
" Somehow, I've managed to accumulate a few free hours to myself tomorrow evening. Why don't you come by my study? We could pick up where we last left off......with the sleeping draughts."  
  
Perhaps on the couch as well.  
  
" That sounds go....No wait, I'm on watch tomorrow night.....but I'm not doing anything this evening ."  
  
" I'm busy. We'll make it Monday then ."  
  
He quickly turned on his heel and swept out of the Infirmary, damning everything in sight.  
  
A young Ravenclaw girl arrived in the hospital just before dinner. It was another broomstick accident. Claira offered to stay while Madam Pomfrey went down to the feast. After mending the girl's broken wrist, she ordered one of the house elves to bring her a plate of food.  
  
Draco sat quietly at the slytherin table. He noticed Claira hadn't arrived for supper and was racking his brain for a plan. Professor McGonagall was heading down the row and he smiled maliciously. Picking up his knife, Malfoy attempted to cut his steak, oops! It slipped and sliced his hand.  
  
" Ouch.....I've cut myself. Look everyone I'm bleeding to death! " He lifted his hand up high.  
  
" Malfoy! Get yourself to the Infirmary immediately. Go on ." Professor McGonagall ordered after observing his injury.  
  
Draco tried to look devastated as he stood up and slumped out of the Great Hall. Outside of the hospital wing, he checked his pocket one last time to make sure he still had the potion on him. When his fingers grazed the vile, he smiled and pushed opened the door. He was ecstatic to see Claira sitting behind Madam Pomfrey's desk, eating. Perfect! She had just started. He walked over to her with his hand out, squeezing his palm to provoke more blood.  
  
" You poor thing! Here, hold this on it. " She handed him a clean cloth. " Go sit down over there and I'll be right back. "  
  
He checked out her body as she walked towards the medicine room, contemplating the portion of it he wanted to devour first. When she was out of sight. He ran over to her goblet and emptied the vile into it. Then he hopped on one of the beds and put on his most anguished face.  
  
" I hope it hasn't become infected! It hurts really bad. You won't have to amputate it will you? "  
  
" Of course not! I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy, it's really not as bad as it looks. "  
  
He stared down at Claira's breasts while she worked on his hand. Too bad he had to wait a few hours before he could touch them. He had diluted the memory draught to accommodate the satyre roots. They didn't kick in right away and he had to schedule everything perfectly. He spent the past few weeks monitoring her work habits and knew she retired to her rooms around nine thirty on Fridays. Or at least she had the last two. He would give her enough time to get all fired up before knocking on her door. By then she would be so horny that she'd probably tear his clothes off right there in the hallway. He snickered loudly and Claira looked up at him quizzically.  
  
" Oh um, it's just that.......it feels so much better. Wow look at that, you've cured me! I guess I'll be off then. " He hopped off the bed and tore out of the Infirmary extremely excited.  
  
As nine o'clock neared, Claira began to feel woozy. She grabbed her goblet of pumpkin juice and excused herself early to retire to her chambers. Perhaps she just needed to catch up on some sleep. After taking a quick shower, she walked towel wrapped, to her dresser and sorted through her nightgowns. Hmmmm, she wasn't in the mood for cotton tonight. She lifted up a blue silk teddy and smiled. She released the fold on her towel and slid it over her head. The smooth fabric tickled her skin, causing her nipples to harden. She grabbed a pair of panties and held them out to examine them. Changing her mind, she stuffed them back into the drawer. She felt like being a little naughty tonight. Performing a cat crawl to her pillow, Claira slipped under the covers and stretched her arms over her head feeling very sexy. Reaching over to her night stand, she lifted the goblet of pumpkin juice and finished it off.  
  
One hour later, Claira found herself rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure that had steadily grown between her legs. Several times her hands had wondered up her gown to caress her abdomen and cup her breasts. She felt like a bitch in heat. Her mind was dizzied by frustration and her body ached to be touched all over. She groaned out loud in agony and shoved a pillow between her thighs to ease the tension.  
  
Professor Snape was slumped over a blank set of scrolls with a quill in his hand and his mind on everything but work. His eyes kept drifting over to the empty leather sofa by the fire. Why the hell did he tell Claira he was busy tonight? He could have easily blown off his lesson plans till Sunday. Instead, he was sitting here alone in his study thinking up perverse ways to initiate another sexual encounter. He imagined himself sitting on the couch, coaxing her to retest another five minute sleeping potion. As she brought the vile to her lips, he leaned over and kissed her neck seductively until she swallowed it and became drowsy. Then he took her mouth in his, layed her down on the cushions, and undressed her while she slept. When she woke, she would be naked beneath him. Severus snorted out loud. He truly was pathetic. He needed to get his mind out of the gutter and back on the task at hand. He had to finish this if he wanted to get some rest before the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. Dumbledore had already been by to remind him of his obligation. Hogsmeade.........Hogsmeade! Why not invite Claira to assist him?  
  
Claira was in a blurred daze. Her body was aroused to no end and she needed a cure. Pleasuring herself had already proven ineffective. She needed something more.......she needed a man! Suddenly, a knock sounded at her door and she jumped up in a panic. Oh God! How was she supposed to answer the door feeling like this? Maybe they'll just go away. She waited in silence for a few moments than heard the knock again. Perhaps not. She snatched up her robe and placed it on her trembling body. When the knock came again, she walked over to the door and yanked it open.  
  
Professor Snape stood handsomely in her archway. He was tall, dark, incredibly sexy.........and Merlin was she horny! His cloak brushed her legs as he swept past her. His masculine scent clouded her head and sent her body into shivers. Unable to stand any longer, Claira stumbled to her bed and sat down with her legs tightly crossed.  
  
" What can I do to you...I..I mean for you. What can I do for you, Professor? "  
  
" Well, as you may know, the.........students..........will be visiting Hogsmeade tomorrow......... Since I agreed to chaperon, I will be attending as well. I've..........spoken with Madam Pomfrey and she has agreed to let you assist me.......that is if.........you want......to.....come......Miss Bell, are you feeling well? "  
  
Claira was staring at him with glossy blue eyes. She kept biting her lower lip and trembling as if in pain. In fact, the entire room had a strange sort of feel to it. There was a heated tension in the air that caused his head to spin wildly. All his senses were heightened and he couldn't seem to concentrate on any one particular thing.  
  
" Yesssss. Um, I'm jus....fine. I'd love to go with you tomarrow. Thanks for thin...thinking of me ." Get a grip Claira......and stop staring at his crotch!  
  
" Very well then. Everyone meets in the Entrance Hall at ten ."  
  
Severus stared at her oddly for a few moments before turning to leave. Just as he tugged open the door, she stood.  
  
" Wa....Wait Professor. I don't want you to leave ."  
  
He whirled around and raised his brows at her quizzically. Did she just ask him not to leave? He watched intently as Claira slowly walked towards him while pulling the strings loose on her robe. His eyes immediately fell to the two hardened nipples protruding from her silk teddy. He stared at her body hungrily until she was only inches away. Then she snaked her arms around his neck, taking him completely off guard.  
  
" Stay ." Claira whispered softly in his ear before pressing her lips to his.  
  
He stood there for a moment frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the situation. When he finally came to, she had already broken off the kiss and was staring at him pleadingly. She needn't ask him twice! He stretched his arm back behind him, closed the door, then fumbled with the lock until it clicked. Grabbing Claira by the waist possessively, Severus pulled her body to him and covered her mouth with his. She quickly deepened the kiss, allowing him to taste her. She was delicious, her tongue was sweet and her mouth was moist and hot. He felt her tugging at his robes and he smiled against her lips. She slid his cloak over his shoulders and fumbled with the buttons on his vest. When they proved to be too difficult, she abandoned them and dropped her hands to his belt buckle. Severus broke off the kiss to whisper in her ear.  
  
" There's no need to rush this........"  
  
Claira groaned in protest, unfastened the clasp, and slipped her hand down his pants. What was he saying about patience? Severus moaned loudly as her fingers grazed his erection. He instantly grabbed her hips and pressed her roughly against his arousal. His hands snaked under her nightgown, causing him to draw in a deep ragged breath. Merlin, she wasn't wearing any panties! He instantly cupped her ass and squeezed it gently. Claira began to grind and rub her hips around tenaciously while provoking another kiss. Her lips and tongue were urgent and his hand ventured between her thighs curiously. She bucked wildly as Severus brushed his fingers lightly over her need. He growled in delight. She was hot, wet, and more than ready for him.  
  
Guiding Claira backwards towards the bed, he carefully layed her down and positioned himself on top of her. He kissed her hungrily while pressing his arousal between her legs teasingly. She arched her back and cried out in frustration.  
  
" P..P....Please hurry! "  
  
Severus propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at her. She was so inflamed and glossy eyed, she wanted him desperately, and she was being awfully persistent. There was something that just didn't feel quite right about that. Those weren't exactly the characteristics of a virgin, she should be more reserved and uncertain. He glanced over at the goblet on her night stand and immediately noticed a pink film around the rim. What the hell? He rolled off her and sat up. Claira whimpered in confusion.  
  
" What's wrong? "  
  
" How long ago did you drink this? " Severus snatched the goblet and held it up.  
  
" What? I don't know......two hours? Why does it matter? "  
  
He brought it up to his nose and winced. It reeked of satyre roots. That would explain her present condition, though he would have liked to think he was the one responsible. There was only one potion he knew of which left a film of that color. Claira will be losing her short term memory soon. Damnit! He can't continue this knowing she's under the influence of an aphrodisiac. He leaned back against the bed post and glared at the ceiling extremely pissed off. Claira scooted over and attempted to free the buttons on his vest again. She managed all but two before he caught her wrists and pushed them away.  
  
" Claira.....It wouldn't be right ."  
  
She looked at him confused for a moment, then proceeded to straddle his waist. He made to protest, but quickly shut his mouth when she grabbed the hem of her teddy and pulled it over her head. His eye brows raised in splendor as he gawked at her nude breasts. They were beautiful, perfectly rounded, and sized to perfection. Since when did he ever care about right and wrong anyway? Severus immediately lifted his hands to cup them. They were soft and milky, far beyond his imagination. A new heat fired up in his pants and he had to tug at his zipper to relieve the tightness. He helped her remove his vest and shirt, then layed down on the pillow. He watched her rake her hips over his arousal while he fondled her breasts. Merlin, she was a beautiful woman! His eyes fell all over her naked body, and so did his hands. He tried to ignore the nagging voice inside his head telling him to stop.  
  
Severus's eyes closed as Claira began kissing his chest. Her breath was hot and moist against his skin and he moaned in delight. She ventured down to the front of his exposed silk boxers and brought her hand up to the snap. His eyes tore back open and he immediately pulled her back up for a passionate kiss. His body was quivering in anticipation, but his mind was struggling to win the morality battle. He needed more time to decide. So he rolled her over onto her back and took the dominant position. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea. Claira arched her back and bucked wildly under his erection, begging him to take her. Then she said the one thing that sent him over the edge, his name.  
  
" Sev....Severus, please...."  
  
That was all he needed to hear. He reached between them, freed his shaft of all fabric, and pressed it against the base of her need, breathing heavily. He felt the tip of it moisten, and moaned loudly. Just as he was about to enter her, an urgent knock sounded at the door.  
  
Professor Snape growled dangerously and lifted himself up. That would be the deviant who druged Claira in the first place. He wondered when he'd be arriving. Severus straightened his pants and slung his white button up shirt over his shoulders. He didn't bother to refasten either one as he violently swung the door opened.  
  
Draco Malfoy stared back at him opened mouthed and terrified. Professor Snape was looking murderous.........and half clothed!  
  
" Sir! Uh....I was just..umm...I just...."  
  
" Idiot boy! I know exactly what you're here for! "  
  
Professor Snape grabbed Draco by the collar roughly, closed the door, then slammed him hard against the corridor wall. He kept a tight hold on his robes as he spoke to him in a low venomous voice.  
  
" Now, listen closely you little bastard. Consider yourself lucky if I don't take this straight to the Headmaster's office and have you expelled ."  
  
" No, please don't!......my....my....father..."  
  
" SILENCE! ........Two months detention with Filch........." Malfoy's eyes widened in horror. " Three parchment apology to Miss Bell, and it had better be sincere..........ten scroll essay on the malignity of your actions........full servicing of the dungeons..........and any other castigation that I may come up with on my leisure. "  
  
Draco moved to leave, only to be driven back up against the wall painfully.  
  
" Also expect one hundred points to be deducted from Slytherin..... ."  
  
Severus moved so that he was only inches from his face.  
  
" For interrupting."  
  
He released his grip and shoved him away forcefully.  
  
" Now get out of my sight! "  
  
Malfoy tore off down the corridor. When he was out of Snape's sight, he leaned back against the wall and slumped down it. He held his hands over his face and shook his head vigorously. None of the punishments he had received tonight would compare to the torture he would endure tomorrow from his House when they find out he had lost them one hundred points, and from the Head himself!  
  
Severus walked back into Claira's chambers and grabbed his robes. He dressed quickly, while ignoring her presence. She was still in bed naked and wanting. It took all the strength he had to leave her laying there as he stormed off towards the dungeons. 


	20. Every Rose has It's Thorns

TO MY READERS: Sorry it took me so long to update. I had a lot of difficulty with this chapter. As always, I must stress the importance of feedback. Without it, I lose all motivation to write.  
  
For Cora: I understand your reservations on the dueling scene. For the record, Severus was holding back, as he stated before the match started. He told her he would be gentle, so he was. She was more skilled than he thought, but he still could have easily taken her out. I should have emphasized that more in my description. If you haven't noticed yet, he has a difficult time acting himself when he's around her! Thanks for your imput and all the others who left feedback.  
  
Chapter: 20  
  
A vibrant stream of light pierced through Claira's window, harassing her eyelids until they opened in exasperation. Groaning, she rolled over and grumpily pulled a handful of covers over her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, Claira desperately tried to recover the erotic dream she had just so rudely been awoken from. Visions of Professor Snape teased her subconscious memory. He had entered her room, swooped her up in his arms, and kissed her. Or had she kissed him first? No matter, it was a welcomed seduction. On the bed, he caressed her skin and cupped her breasts with gentle hands, while other parts of their bodies sought rougher means of satisfaction. It was arousing, sensual, and incredibly sexy.  
  
Opening her eyes, Claira brushed her fingers across her lips. They felt swollen, as if her mouth had really been ravished with urgent kisses and playful bits. Tossing her blanket out of the way, she scooted to the edge of the bed and gasped. Her nightgown was strode out on the floor beneath her feet. Immediately looking down at her body, her eyes grew wide with shock at the sight of her nakedness. After several minutes of silent contemplation, Claira suddenly bursted out in a loud fit of snorting laughter and wondered what sort of unholy acts she had performed on her pillow during sleep last night. Her humor instantly vanished as she stood and walked towards the bathroom. Her head spun wildly out of control and she nearly fell over from dizziness. How long was she out? She glanced at her hour glass and sighed. Nine thirty, she was simply suffering from a sleep-induced hangover. It was rare but not entirely impossible. Crawling the rest of the way, she slithered into the shower and twisted the knobs. After fifteen minutes of steamy water, she was finally able to stand without the wall's assistance.  
  
Dressing clumsily, Claira tore out of her room with one goal in mind, to find a remedy. Her feet swiftly carried her to the infirmary, where she flung the door open and made a straight path to the medicine room. Snatching up a green vile, she tilted her head back and guzzled it down. It took immediate effect and within seconds, her head was cleared and her sight was sharply focused. Relieved, Claira strolled back out into the infirmary and began dressing the beds with a blissful smile on her face. Across the room, Madam Pomfrey was staring at her with extreme curiosity.  
  
" Claira, I didn't expect to see you here. Why didn't you leave with the rest? "  
  
Claira looked at her oddly, then furrowed her eye brows in confusion.  
  
" Leave with the rest? Who......where? "  
  
Madam Pomfrey gave her the same bewildered expression and for a few awkward moments, they both stood there staring at each other in baffled silence.  
  
" Hogsmeade? I just assumed you had already spoken with Professor Snape. What with way he barraged in here late last night, throwing around guilt trips and demanding that I send you to chaperone the children in town with him today.....Surely you discussed it."  
  
" I....I don't remember. I must have dosed off before he could ask. What time did they leave? "  
  
Claira couldn't help but feel disappointed.  
  
" Dear, they've only been gone half an hour. I'm quite sure they won't be back till sometime late this afternoon. Why don't you go on? Just remember you're on watch tonight. I'll need you back here by six. "  
  
" Thank you.....I really don't mind staying if you....."  
  
" Off with you child, shoo...." Madam Pomfrey waved her out of the infirmary.  
  
Claira smiled brightly at her as she snapped the door shut in her face. Behind that stern mask, lay the kindest woman Claira had ever met.  
  
Rushing back to her chamber, Claira quickly exchanged her sweater and jeans for a blue floral sun dress. It's short length and sleeveless straps were far more accommodating to the outside weather. Excited, she hurried back out into the corridor and made for the stairs, almost running over Padfoot along the way. His ears perked up immediately and he turned around to trot behind her, tail wagged. They cut across the field and journeyed down the path to Hogsmeade. The sun was shining bright and a cool breeze swept by occasionally to keep the heat at bay. As they reached the gates, Padfoot nudged her leg with his nose affectionately then set off on his own. Claira stood gaping at the town in awe. The beautiful colors and breathtaking scenery had definitely been masked by the night's shadows when she first visited it with Severus.  
  
Her spirits were soaring as she weaved her way through the small crowd lining the streets. A few Hogwarts students greeted her pleasantly as she passed by. They were all carrying large bags that read "Honeydukes" on the front. She chuckled to herself, remembering the sneer Professor Snape had made while pointing out that particular candy shop to her. Speaking of which, she should probably find him before she perused the shops for booty. Claira immediately spotted a familiar sign that read "Apothecary" and ventured towards it. Just outside the door, a small display table across the way caught her eye. Biting her lower lip, she released the handle and glided over to it with curiosity.  
  
The table was cluttered with nick nacks and shiny objects that either chimed or spun when touched. Scanning the display, her eyes came to rest on a solitary rose fully bloomed to perfection. It was by far the most beautiful flower she had ever seen. Reaching into its fabric lined box, Claira picked it up and brought it to her nose. She closed her eyes and smiled at its lovely fragrance. It smelled as if it had just been freshly plucked from the bush.  
  
" That there rose is one day shy of it's fiftieth birthday my lady. I picked it myself I did, right from the gardens of Avalon. " An elderly witch proclaimed as she approached her with a proud smile.  
  
Claira gasped in disbelief at the old woman's words. Twirling it in her hand, she examined it closely. The rose was flawless and unblemished.  
  
" Go ahead, feel the pedals. Tear at them if you like, it won't do no good the rose can't be harmed. "  
  
Claira grazed her fingers over the scarlet bloomage. It felt soft and moist to the touch. As per the woman's instructions, she attempted to tear the pedals but did not succeed in doing so. She stared at it in amazement as the old witch tried to make the sale.  
  
" It's a wonderful keep sake for a collector or perhaps a lovely decorative piece for your mantel..."  
  
Claira lifted the price tag and sighed. It was rather expensive, even if it was extraordinarily rare, beautiful, and would last forever. It'd take all the money she brought and then some to cover the cost.  
  
" It's a great gift for a loved one or would make a superb heir loom for your family to pass down through the generations...........but it's definitely the PERFECT gift for courting a young woman!"  
  
Claira glanced up at the old witch with a raised brow and a curved smile. Why would she want to court a female! Then she discovered the woman wasn't actually looking at her. She was rather busy peering over her shoulder with a large grin and a winking eye. Out of curiosity, Claira turned her head to see who she was speaking to. Her eyes caught a glimpse of black robes and her heart began that familiar pitter patter in her chest.  
  
Professor Snape had been watching her with precision from across the way. Mostly her activities but mainly the enticing curves of her body, which only hours ago had been fully exposed to him. He was exiting the apothecary when he spotted her darting towards the table. He was surprised to say the least, to see her in Hogsmeade. He was sure she wouldn't remember their conversation from last night. Unless of course that stupid little prat Malfoy over diluted the memory draught.  
  
He waited for her to meet his gaze before he responded. When she looked up at him with what he decided to be the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen, he spoke.  
  
" It would be a shame to allow something so beautiful to remain unclaimed."  
  
He stared into her eyes for a few moments longer hoping she would understand his intentions as he glanced at the price tag, reached into his pocket, and handed a fist full of money to the elderly witch.  
  
Claira blushed fire as he purchased the rose. She placed it carefully into it's antique boxing then smiled at him teasingly.  
  
" Why Professor, I didn't know you fancied flowers! I'm sure it will make a lovely wall mount for your classroom. "  
  
She snickered as she handed it to him. Severus in retort, rolled his eyes and shot her a sarcastic scowl before shoving the box back into her hands. A large gust of wind thrustled his cloak as he turned on his heel and strolled off down the street. So it wasn't the most romantic way to present her with a gift. Merlin knows he's been out of the courting loop for sometime, if ever he was in it to begin with. Perhaps in school, but during his deatheater days woman flocked to him in numbers, all power hungry. Being Voldemort's right-hand man certainly did have its benefits. A simple snap of his fingers was all the effort he needed apply to have a naked willing female in his bed, even several, when it suited him. A solemn expression of self loathing washed over his face. Of course it wasn't given without certain sacrifices......nothing gained was ever incurred without some type of iniquitous cost.  
  
Claira hurried to catch up with him. She felt foolish for teasing him about the rose. After all he had bought it for her. She held the box protectively against her chest as she gained ground. When she finally reached him, she tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. Severus stopped dead in his tracks and Claira almost collided into him. He had a strange expression on his face when he whirled around to meet her gaze.  
  
" Professor I.....just wanted to thank you. It's absolutely beautiful.....the rose.... and I will cherish it always. I only wish I had something to offer you in return. "  
  
Claira's face burned red at her own words, she had never been good at thank you's. Not knowing what else to say, she stood up on her tippy toes and gently brushed her lips across his cheek, allowing her kiss to linger momentarily at the corner of his mouth. Her heart began to flutter violently in her chest and she broke away, slightly embarrassed. As she turned to leave, Professor Snape grabbed her arm.  
  
" You're welcome....to join me if you like. Aside from monitoring the student's activities, we could visit the Three Broomsticks for lunch. Unless of course, you had other plans. "  
  
" Nope, your idea sounds great. Lead the way. "  
  
They walked side by side routing the village, keeping watch on the children and occasionally visiting shops when something caught Claira's eye. They ate lunch at the Three Broomsticks as Severus had suggested. Selecting a table in the back, they spent the better part of an hour entertaining each other with humorous stories from their pasts. Professor Snape hadn't quite as many to tell. Most of his yarn revolved around the blundering antics of his students in class. Needless to say, he did the majority of listening and grinning over the course of the meal. Afterwards, they continued their journey along the winding roads and hidden paths. At one point, Professor Snape had managed to cleverly divert Claira's attention when they rounded the way of the shrieking shack. He couldn't stand the sight of the place without having his stomach lurch in disgust.  
  
The sky slowly darkened as grey clouds hovered above, a storm was approaching. The weather was strange like that. One minute there would be sunshine and the next, hail or snow flakes. Large water droplets began to pound the ground and Severus quickly stepped into the post office to owl Dumbledore for carriages. All the students gathered at the gates and after a swift head count, started piling into the coaches, four to a seat. Professor Snape lead Claira to a vacant one and shot warning glares at anyone who approached. The carriages set off down the passage back to Hogwarts just as heavy rain began to fall.  
  
The ride was slow moving due to the quantity of transports. Claira sat close beside Severus, partly shivering from her damp dress. He quickly noticed and slipped his arm around her shoulder, motioning for her to lean against him. Sure he could have used a simple drying spell, but this was much more gratifying. She smiled at him appreciatively and layed her head back against his shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek and he turned slightly to breathe in its scent. He mentally noted how she always seemed to smell so damn good. He closed his eyes and quietly listened to the soothing sounds of rain beating wildly around him. He sighed with content. This was definitely one of his better days.  
  
A soft rustling sound forced his eyes back opened and he watched as Claira lifted her rose from its box to admire it. She twirled it around in her fingers then brought it to her nose to inhale its fragrance. She glanced up at him and smiled. His heart felt a sense of pride knowing he had caused her a bit of happiness, though trivial as it was. She held the flower for a little while longer before carefully placing it back in the box. Her gaze was shifted to him once more, this time with a query expression on her face.  
  
" Why did you buy this for me? "  
  
It was a question Claira had been pondering all day. He didn't strike her as the kind to cheerfully pass out flowers to just anybody, especially ones that costly. The carriage fell uncomfortably silent as he stared down at her oddly. She suddenly regretted asking, thinking it may have been rude of her to challenge his intentions.  
  
He thought the gift went without saying. Perhaps she was seeking further sentiment? In which case he was most willing to oblige. Gently taking her chin in his hand, Severus tilted her face to his and spoke softly against her lips.  
  
" Isn't it obvious? "  
  
Without another word, he covered her mouth with his. Claira closed her eyes and parted her lips in response. The kiss was immediately deepened at her approval and their tongues met each other in a slow seductive tango. For Claira, it was their first kiss. Severus knew otherwise, and Merlin how much sweeter her mouth tasted knowing it was neither drink nor drug induced. She was doing it because she wanted to.......because she wanted him. He felt her hand raise to his chest and he dropped his to her thigh, lightly caressing her skin. If this didn't answer her question, he didn't know what would.  
  
The kiss continued through the rest of the ride, ending only when the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of the castle. When they finally pulled apart, Claira smiled and shied away. Severus grinned and softly ran the back of his fingers down her reddened cheek.  
  
" Come with me to my study? There's something I'd like to show you. "  
  
Exactly what he wasn't sure. His mind only thought far enough to get her alone, anything after that will have to be improvised.  
  
When she nodded in agreement, He grabbed the handle on the door and pushed it opened. The rain was still heavily pouring down and all the students were dashing towards the castle to take cover. Grabbing the hem of his cloak, Severus helped Claira out of the carriage and wrapped it protectively around her, shielding her from the storm. They hurried up the stone steps and rushed through the double doors.  
  
Inside the Entrance Hall, the children scattered like drenched rats. Removing his cloak completely, Severus draped it over Claira's shoulders and lead her towards the dungeons. As they passed by the staffroom, Professor McGonagall shouted out for them to come in. Severus groaned in protest but redirected his path into the lounge.  
  
There was a whole lot of commotion going on as they entered the room. All the teachers were present, including Dumbledore and some woman Claira had never seen before. She was hugging Madam Hooch when Professor McGonagall made the announcement of their arrival. The woman whirled around and smiled widely.  
  
" SEVY! "  
  
She immediately ran over to him and threw her arms around his neck, forcing Claira to tumble a few steps backwards in the process.  
  
" You know I don't like it when you call me that, " he grumbled trying to pull her away from him. The woman just grinned and tenderly kissed him on the lips. It was more than friendly etiquette and Claira's heart plummeted in her chest.  
  
When she finally released her hold on him, Severus immediately glanced over at Claira who was staring at the floor with her face flushed. Damnit.  
  
Claira met his gaze briefly before quickly turning her head away to peer around the room. Everyone seemed to be staring at her, and why not? She was standing there soaking wet, wearing Professor Snape's cloak while some other woman had her arms wrapped around him. She suddenly felt very foolish and out of place.  
  
" Ah, Teresa. I don't believe you've met our new mediwitch Claira Bell. Claira, this is Professor Silverstone, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As you may know, Professor Moore was only temporarily filling in the position until she returned, " Dumbledore stated kindly.  
  
Professor Silverstone's eyes fell to the over sized cloak draped around her shoulders and scowled.  
  
" Pleasure. "  
  
Claira nodded politely. The woman was older than her, possibly Professor Snape's age. She was also slightly taller, had long blonde hair, and an evenly tanned complexion. The woman was fairly pretty in her opinion, which didn't help much to relieve the growing pangs of jealousy. Professor Silverstone shot her a rather nasty glare before she grabbed Severus's arm, pulled him over to one of the couches, and sat down beside him.  
  
" I'm sure you're just dying to hear all about my expeditions in Albania! "  
  
Professor Snape glanced back at Claira. She had already removed his cloak and was weaving through the teachers towards him. She placed it carefully in his lap and forced a smile.  
  
" Thank you Professor. I'm just going to head back to the infirmary. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey wants to retire for the night. "  
  
Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room. He sighed heavily and stared at the empty archway, totally oblivious to the words that were being spoken in his ear. 


	21. To Charm a Snake

Note to Readers: I just wanted to quickly thank everyone who left a review. I'm writing as fast as time permits me. The chapters seem to be growing more and more complicated to write. For those of you nagging for a shagging, it's coming REALLY soon, I promise.  
  
To Katharina: Thanks for the heads up on the Leaky Cauldron mix-up!  
  
To Psycho-Kitty-Purra: I agree my grammar needs improving. I try to proof read as much as possible, but I write for hours on end sometimes and it's hard to pin point mistakes when you can't focus on any one given word. It's hard to explain but hopefully you can look past the spelling errors and misplaced commas. It's the storyline I'm concerned with right now. Maybe later on when I finish the story, I'll go back and correct everything. Thanks for your review and suggestions.  
  
Chapter: 21  
  
Claira watched the sky turn from deep purple to black as the last hint of sunlight disappeared beyond the rocky mountain peeks. A ghostly white mist rose high above the lake just as night fall came to pass and the hospital window from which she gazed out of grew moist and foggy. Raising her finger to the glass, Claira used the moon's silhouette to trace out a perfectly rounded circle. Peering through the hole, she caught a glimpse of dark robes sweeping across the grounds. She squinted her eyes and pressed her nose against the glass to get a better look. The figure seemed to have mysteriously vanished near the whomping willow tree. She squeezed her eyes shut temporarily to clear her sight, then peeped through the window once more. The field was still and void. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Shadows can be very deceiving, especially to the weary.  
  
Finally abandoning the theory, Claira hopped down from the sill and made towards the fireplace. The sweater and jeans she had changed into earlier did very little to keep her warm. Kneeling close to the log, she stared idly into its flames and allowed her mind to drift off. Thoughts of Professor Snape soon filled her head. Her mouth quickly curved into a smile as she reveled in the memory of their kiss. Merlin his lips were talented!....and his tongue, simply amazing. He was definitely no stranger in the ways of women, unlike her, who's only bed side companion over the years had been her teddy bear Mr. Tickles. Her cheeks suddenly flushed red as she pondered the idea of making love to him. Could she possibly be able satisfy all his needs? Given her lack of experience, probably not. He would most likely dismiss her with a laugh and move onto something better.....like Professor Silverstone. Now there's a woman who looked as though she'd been around the block a time or two. The way Teresa had embraced Severus that evening was enough to make her insanely jealous, not to mention extremely suspicious. Is it possible that they were once involved? If so, is there a chance they may rekindle their flame now that she's returned to Hogwarts? Claira frowned and solemnly rested her head upon her knees. What if he didn't want to see her anymore? A ghostly chime suddenly filled the infirmary. It was the bell tower signaling the start of the feast. Clearing her thoughts, Claira slowly stood and walked to the door. Pushing it open, she peered down the hallway. It was empty. Relieved, she snapped the door shut behind her and descended the stairs with a rumbling tummy.  
  
The Great Hall was exceptionally cheery, the whole room seemed to be bustling with an excessive amount of excitement and loud chatter. Claira spotted several students whispering feverishly and pointing towards the front of the Hall as she passed by. Making her way further up the isle, she soon discovered their muse. A large pewter cauldron filled with hundreds of tiny sparkling objects was set up in front of the staff table, demanding everyone's attention. Sneaking a quick peek inside, she found its contents to be an abundance of small shiny pins. They were all glittering green and shaped like tiny mistletoes. Claira snorted out loud and looked up at the staff table. Professor Snape was already seated, along with Professor Silverstone who occupied the chair next to him. Claira scowled at the seating arrangements as she rounded the table to her own designated spot. Madam Pince glanced over and greeted her politely before lopping a large helping of sweet potatoes onto her dish. Scooping up her own selection of servings, Claira quickly filled her plate with an array of food and began stabbing at it with her fork. Twirling several noodles around its prongs, she raised the fork to her mouth in preparation for consumption. Just then, Dumbledore stood up to address the students. Regardless of her aching stomach, Claira lowered her utensil out of respect for the Headmaster.  
  
" Everyone, if you will please turn your attention this way....I have a few announcements to make before we begin. As you all know, the holidays are drawing near, thus bringing along the tradition Yule Ball with it's passing......" His words were immediately cut off by loud cheering and clapping. Claira looked around the room baffled. Noticing her confusion, Madam Pince leaned over and whispered,  
  
" Christmas dance, dear. "  
  
Claira's eyebrows raised in delight and she targeted her attention back to Dumbledore, eager to hear more. After a few moments of leniency, Albus raised his hands to silence the students.  
  
" Indeed. Now, for those of you remaining at Hogwarts to attend the festivities, Professor McGonagall and I have come up with a clever way to assist you in finding a partner. "  
  
Digging into his robes, he withdrew a pin identical to the ones placed inside the pewter cauldron. Everyone squinted their eyes in curiosity, many of the students leaned back in the isles to get a better look at the object he was holding up.  
  
" Each one of you will receive a pendant like so. Minerva, if you will please assist me in this demonstration...."  
  
Professor McGonagall glanced around the Hall with a slight smirk and slowly rose with a blush. She withdrew a pendant from her own pocket then waited patiently for his cue.  
  
" You will find that the pins have all been beautifully transfigured into miniature mistletoes. Anyone not wearing one, is free to ask to the dance.....Minerva, I would be most honored if you will accompany me for a lovely evening of dining and dancing. "  
  
" Certainly Albus. "  
  
Dumbledore lightly kissed her on the cheek and they exchanged pendants, which were now glowing a brilliant green. The kiss somehow seemed to ignite them, like a sort of magical contract. Professor McGonagall quickly clipped her pin to the collar of her robes and sat back down, purposely avoiding everyone's impending stare. The Hall suddenly erupted in applause, apparently the students approved of the idea. Claira knew exactly who she wanted to ask and her eyes slowly drifted in the direction of Professor Snape. He was wearing a rather nasty scowl with his arms folded defensively across his chest. Now that Professor Moore was gone, Severus was the youngest bachelor among the staff and all the female professors seemed to be leering his way. Claira giggled to herself as he began sneering at each of them. When his gaze finally reached her, she silenced herself and looked on hopefully. Their eyes locked and for a few brief moments, his scowl remained embedded on his face. Just when Claira was about to turn away disappointed, he flashed her a lightening fast wink. She couldn't stop the smile from piercing her lips as she reverted her attention back to Dumbledore, who was still standing. In doing so, she completely missed the nasty glare Professor Silverstone shot at her.  
  
" Upon accepting an invitation, I must ask that both parties wear their pins visibly at all times. I hope to see everyone sporting one by Christmas day.....Thank you."  
  
Clamping his own pendant to his hat, Albus sat back down and everyone commenced eating. Two minutes into the meal, Claira was distracted by a loud cackling sound. She immediately lifted her head to find its source. She grimaced at the sight of Professor Silverstone slapping Professor Snape on the shoulder with an exaggerated laugh. He in turn, was looking extremely uncomfortable with his head bowed down and his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. Claira watched them for a while with reservations. Professor Silverstone kept leaning over and whispering in his ear while he nodded and spoke one word answers. Her curiosity soon got the best of her, and she nudged Madam Pince in the arm to get her attention.  
  
" Professor Snape and Silverstone......were they ever, you know, a couple? " Claira asked, trying to speak nonchalantly.  
  
" I've had my suspicions. We all have. They attend formal gathering together, conventions, upscale dinner parties and such......but as far as anything romantic, it's hard to tell. Severus keeps his personal affairs to himself. He won't let on much, just brushes you off rudely if you prod too far into his business. Why do you ask? "  
  
" Oh no reason, just curious I guess. "  
  
Madam Pince simply shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her plate. That didn't explain much, but it was a start. At least now she knew they spent time outside of Hogwarts together, which was just enough to get her blood boiling. Pushing her empty dish away, Claira stood up, grabbed a pin from the cauldron, and made for the infirmary. By the time she reached the double doors, she had made up her mind that she didn't particularly care for that Teresa woman. In fact, despise would be a more appropriate word for it.  
  
Severus sat behind his desk grading scrolls beneath a small flicker of candle light. He was nearly finished when a small tap sounded at his door. For a split second, he thought it might be Claira. Snorting, he dropped his quill and snapped the lid closed on the ink bottle. Of course it wouldn't be Claira. She was restricted to the hospital wing tonight. No, he wanted it to be her so he could continue his exploration of her mouth. Damnit! He should have ignored Minerva when she beckoned them into the staffroom earlier that day. How foolish was he to postpone her accepted invitation to his study? Fifty galleons says a few light caresses and soft-spoken words in her ear would have far exceeded the necessary requirements to have her naked in his bed. Not that she was easy, Merlin, she was still a virgin at twenty-four. No, she was just naive and trusting. A silly little rose had her snuggling up against him in the carriage, not to mention the way she parted her lips for him so willingly when he offered her a kiss. A heavier knock was applied to his door and he stood to answer it. Along the way, he resumed his thoughts on the matter. Of course, Teresa had to go and botch up his little seduction by kissing him in front of her. Now he'll have to work twice as hard to win Claira's confidence back. Just what the bloody hell was that woman trying to pull anyway?  
  
Speaking of the she-devil, there she was, standing maliciously on the opposite side of the door from which he held open.  
  
" Well....Aren't you going to invite me in? "  
  
" How rude of me. " Severus sarcastically growled while stepping aside.  
  
He could almost smell her sinister intentions and ulterior motives as she swept by. Walking cat-like to his couch, she gracefully sat down and crossed her legs. Her mouth formed a curved smile as she patted the cushion next to her, motioning for him to sit down. His lip curled into a sneer as he snapped the door shut and glided over to the fireplace. He didn't acknowledge her request, but rather stood over her with his arms crossed.  
  
" And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company,....." He paused to glance over at the hour glass purged upon his desk, " at midnight no less? "  
  
" I've missed your Severus. I didn't have to come back so soon you know. I could have easily remained in Albania for another six months. Haven't you been reading my letters? "  
  
" I've been busy. " That, plus the fact he tossed every single one he had ever received into the fire. He had no desire to waste his time on such rubbish.  
  
" Lose the act, I know you can't possibly deny the attraction we felt that night in your office. We were both..."  
  
" Plastered from McAllister's retirement party, as I recall. A serious lapse in judgement I assure you.....We've been over this before. "  
  
Things had certainly become heated between them that fateful night. Luckily, he was able to stop himself before further regrets were made. A little pawing hardly justified the basis for a romantic relationship.  
  
As if he hadn't responded at all, Teresa flung her long blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled wryly.  
  
" Anyways, I've come to accept your invitation to the Yule Ball. "  
  
" Presumptuous aren't we? Well I haven't offered you one, so if you'll kindly remove yourself from...."  
  
" Not even if Fudge is attending? "  
  
Her words cut through the air like daggers made of ice. The woman was vindictive, ruthless, and bloody clever as a cobra snake. Everything about her screamed slytherin right down to the etched serpent on her boot.  
  
" I've heard nothing of his attendance. "  
  
" I know. I suggested it to Dumbledore just after you left. He's already owled Cornelius. "  
  
Damn her....and damn him for ever agreeing to this whole entourage in the first place. She was a pureblood, derived from a wealthy family same as he. Only the Snapes were more predominant in society and held a vast fortune which far exceeded that of the Silverstone legacy. His ancestry held rank just above the Malfoys, known only to the highest class of wizards. Unlike the Malfoys, they didn't flaunt and braggard their wealth. Teresa's parents were pushing her to find a mate. He was seeking a future position within the Ministry. Although the Council was leaning towards muggleborn equality, its members were still purebloods and fashioned for new recruits alike. They were also determining applicants on succession, favoring those who held pureblood spouses and showed promise of continuing the bloodline. So he and Teresa began attending gatherings together. They both benefitted from the appearance of courtship. He with the Ministry, her with her family, both determined to remain single behind the scenes. That is until now, she obviously wanted to eliminate the fictitious status of their relationship.  
  
" So, do we have a date? "  
  
Severus strolled over to the fireplace mantel and leaned his elbow against it. His eyes were blazing more wildly than the flames beneath him. He originally planned on asking Claira and all but told her so in the Great Hall. This certainly complicated things. He didn't want to give her the wrong impression of his relationship with Teresa nor did he want the Minister himself to witness him gallivanting around with a mudblood. He cringed at his own thoughts. He didn't want to think of her that way. As much as he hated to admit it though, she was what she was and it wasn't accommodating to his particular needs at this time.  
  
" I suppose so. "  
  
Teresa smiled triumphantly and extended her hand towards him. He grabbed it grudgingly and helped her up off the couch. Reaching into his vest pocket, he retrieved his pendant and shoved it at her. She took it with a contained giggle and wrapped her arms around his neck. Severus sighed in defeat as he lowered his mouth to hers. He had only meant to kiss her briefly, but she forcefully deepened it and pressed her body against his. He tried to break it off by grabbing her hips, but found himself pulling rather than pushing. It had literally been years since he last bedded a woman. The last few months spent with Claira only added to his sexual frustration and his body was mearly acting on primal instinct. Perhaps it would do him good to release some of that pent up tension. Teresa was a very attractive woman after all. She wasn't as beautiful as Claira though, and her mouth wasn't as sweet. Her body didn't fit against his quite as well as Claira's did and her hair didn't smell of lavender. She didn't kiss as good as Claira and damnit, she just wasn't Claira. Closing his eyes wouldn't rectify that and he grew thouroughly angry with himself for allowing his feelings for her to extend beyond physical attraction. Disgusted, he pushed Teresa away and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. His face immediately twisted up into a nasty scowl that told her it was time to go. Racking her tongue over her lips, she winked at him and smiled smuggly.  
  
" Don't forget your pin. "  
  
Severus cursed madly under his breath while snatching the pendant out of her hand. Her laughter echoed in his ear as she brushed passed him towards the door. As soon as she clicked it closed, he violently threw the pin across the room. It was still glowing green when it smashed against the wall and fell to the floor in thousands of shattered pieces. He watched silently as they slowly reattached themselves to form a perfect replica of the one he had just destroyed. Extremely pissed, he sat down behind his desk and scooped up his quill. Pushing the bottle of black ink aside, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a fresh red filled one. He still had a stack of Gryffindor papers to grade and the scale just tallied up ten points to a mistake.  
  
One hour, three broken quills, five torn scrolls, and an empty bottle of red ink later, he was finished. Rubbing his temples, he stood up and made for his liquor cabinet. Deliberately ignoring the shot glasses, he fumbled around for a full bottle of fire whiskey. Finally settling for half a share, he snatched it out and crossed the room to his armchair. Scraping the legs along the floor, he turned it towards the fireplace and slumped into it. Tilting the bottle to his lips, he took a long hard swig and lowered his gaze to the flames. His nerves were rattled beyond repair and he was nowhere near drowsy. Just for the hell of it, Severus tossed the bottle into the fire. He delighted in the way it caused the blaze to rise and fall dangerously, much like his temper. Giving up all hopes of sleep, he slowly stood and grabbed his cloak off the rack. It had been a while since he last stalked the corridors for naughty students out of bed.  
  
The hallways were empty. Every corner he turned was either blackened or uninhabited. Damnit! Of all the bloody nights for those little gits to behave. Swooping up a flight of stairs, he suspended his journey to stare blankly at the infirmary door. Just behind it lay a beautiful woman, fully awake, and probably just as bored as he was. Should he intrude? What excuse did he have to be there? Did he really need one? One would think they were familiar enough by now to correspond without reasoning. He began to pace back and forth, debating and contemplating his strategies. Out of the shadows, just behind a large stone pillar, rose the silhouette of a beastly canine. Padfoot. He should have known he'd be lurking around. Their eyes met and for one brief moment, an understanding transpired between them. Severus snorted in disgust at his presence, but was he not doing the same thing? Obsessing, leering outside the very room she was in, talking to himself like a psychotic madman? There was one major difference however. He had the ability to do something about it. Placing his hand on the door latch, Severus gave Padfoot a nasty smile and pushed it open. The dog growled at him menacingly and he retaliated by snapping the door shut on his snout. Padfoot whimpered in defeat and trodded back to his post, impatiently awaiting the greasy git's return.  
  
His eyes scanned the dim room. Finally, he spotted Claira lounging on the farthest bed nearest the fire. Long strides carried him closer to her and his gaze fell to her hands, which were holding a muggle pen and yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet. She immediately looked up at him, first with concern, then with a smile.  
  
" Perfect timing Professor! I need another word for the monkshood and wolfsbane plant. "  
  
" Aconite. " He answered with a raised brow. She didn't seem at all tethered by his presence.  
  
He watched in silence as she scribbled the letters down on the back of the newspaper. She then turned to him and grinned.  
  
" Yep, thanks. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company,..." She paused to look over at the mini hour glass on the night stand, " at two in the morning? "  
  
The irony was uncanny.  
  
" I promised Poppy that I'd check up on you during my rounds tonight. " He was a lying snake, slytherin to the rotten core.  
  
" Oh. So I guess you won't be staying then. Too bad, because I really could use some help on this crossword puzzle. "  
  
" Well Miss Bell, lucky for you I just finished my route. "  
  
Claira smiled at him gratefully then scooted over, allowing him ample space to sit down beside her. He wasted no time in doing so. Removing the long billowing cloak from around his shoulders, Severus draped it across the bed next to hers then sat down on the mattress. The springs creaked loudly as he swung his legs over and crossed them at the ankles. His back rested rather comfortably against the bed post and he pulled the newspaper closer to him to check her progress. Claira leaned over and rested her cheek against his shoulder while pointing out the squares she was having trouble with. He coached her through a few answers before placing the puzzle back in her lap. His mind was becoming distracted by her warm breath on his neck, not to mention the various parts of her body that were brushing up against his. The effect she had on him was very unnerving. Glancing around the room, his eyes fell upon a silver muggle device sitting solitary on the night stand next to him. He picked it up and curled his lip.  
  
" What the devil is this thing? "  
  
" It's a Gameboy Advance, " Claira chortled out while looking up from her newspaper. " It's a muggle game. Here I'll show you..."  
  
She flicked the side switch on and the screen lit up. His sneer grew in intensity as the plastic box began playing the most rechid music he had ever heard. Claira snickered at the way he was holding it, as if it were plagued with some infectious disease.  
  
" I only brought along Super Mario Brothers, so you'll have to settle. "  
  
He raised his brow at her quizzically then turned back to the muggle device, mildly interested. She showed him the correct buttons to push and how the system worked. Finally satisfied that he got the gist, she turned back to her puzzle and gave him free reign to play. She watched him out the corner of her eye and snorted quietly to herself as his thumbs fumbled at the controls. She nearly cracked up at the boingy sound of him jumping Mario around. He was frightfully uncoordinated and he kept falling into the pits of doom. The bewildered expression on his face was priceless. After a while, he seemed to get the hang of it and even began the customary act of cursing at the characters.  
  
" I said jump damn you....get out of my way you little bastard! "  
  
Claira almost rolled off the bed laughing. Finally fed up, he switched it off and tossed it on the bed next to his cloak. He stared down at her with a sardonic sneer and waited for her to cease her ridiculous cackling.  
  
" I'm glad you find me so amusing, Miss Bell. "  
  
" I'm sorry Professor, I'll try and control myself. "  
  
Outside, a sudden ear piercing howl rang out and Claira's face immediately fell dead serious. The nearness of it frightened her and she stared at the window as if some hideous monster was about to jump right through it. Professor Snape's mouth formed a devious smile.  
  
" Don't worry Claira. It's probably just a werewolf prowling the grounds. "  
  
In fact, he knew it was a werewolf. Dumbledore had organized an 'Order' meeting for Tuesday. Lupin always arrived early so he could sniff around and stick his bloody nose where it didn't belong. He had brewed a wolfesbane potion for him just this morning so he could stay at the castle for the next few days. Why he hadn't remained in the shrieking shack tonight was a little puzzling.  
  
Claira's eyes grew to the size of saucers.  
  
" I thought the forest had a protective wall charmed around it to keep the monsters from....."  
  
" Every spell has its flaws. There are certain areas bordering the grounds that are weak and easy to penetrate. Occasionally a stray werewolf or mountain troll will get cocky enough to test the boundaries. Why just three years ago, we had one worm it's way into the castle. A nasty werewolf that attacked a few of the children, which is rare because usually they go straight for the woman. They have an acquired taste you know, I suppose females have more flavor...." He paused briefly to stare down at her breasts, " and meat to feast upon. "  
  
" You're setting me up! "  
  
" Believe what you will Miss Bell. I'm sure you'll be fine. Just make sure you stay away from the windows. It might provoke them. "  
  
Her eyes suddenly grew wide and her mouth dropped slightly.  
  
" I...I thought I saw something earlier, walking towards the willow tree just outside. "  
  
He let out a grave groan, inside he was laughing his head off.  
  
" Well there you have it. They have acute night vision, aside from their impeccable eyesight. One was probably watching you from the forest, got a little hungry, and thought he'd sniff around a bit. I doubt he'll get past the bridge.....unless he's exceptionally clever. "  
  
" Oh stop it. You're just trying to scare me. "  
  
" You're right. I am. "  
  
His words were spoken softly as if he were trying to sooth a weeping child. Which he immediately followed up with a noticeable fake smile that said, ' When he eats you, don't say I didn't warn you. ' With a gentle hand, he tilted her chin up and lightly kissed her lips.  
  
" Good night, Miss Bell. "  
  
His gaze lingered on her a while, studying her features as if it were the last time he would ever see her. Then, with exaggerated movements, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Tossing his cloak over his shoulders, he gave her one last sympathetic look and made for the door. He got as far as three beds before she called after him, silly girl.  
  
" Wait! You could stay longer...if you want. I mean, it's such a long walk back to the dungeons and you did just get here. "  
  
He stood with his back to her for a few extra moments, trying to control the wicked smirk on his face. Finally he was able to tone it down into a warm smile.  
  
" Perhaps I should remain a little while longer, just in case. "  
  
He saw a bit of relief wash over her face as he removed his cloak. Slipping his arm around her, he sat back down and positioned himself onto the pillow, just a little further down than before. She immediately leaned into him and he grinned triumphantly. A few seconds later, they heard another howl. A trained ear such as his own, could tell it was a dog. However, Claira tensed up and looked around wildly. She then broke the silence with a small whisper.  
  
" Not that I believe you...but what if one did manage to get in? "  
  
With the delicacy of silk, Severus brushed her hair away with his cheek and lightly pressed his lips against her temple. His voice was just as smooth.  
  
" Then you'd have nothing to worry about. He'd have to get through me first and I'd be damned before I let that happen. "  
  
The plan was genius. He could almost hear her heart flutter wildly as she layed her head down upon his chest. Her body snuggled up against his instinctually and he accommodated her by placing a protective hand on her hip. She was seeking more than just safety, he could tell by the way her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His words cut deeper than he had initially intended but no matter, the physical response he anticipated was the same and so what if she took it to heart, he got what he wanted. Had he a serpent tongue, it would be flickering out victoriously. He wasn't the Head of Slytherin for nothing.  
  
Glancing over at the miniature hour glass on the night stand, Severus sighed. It was nearly four in the morning. The past couple of hours had been spent admiring Claira's peaceful slumber whilst stroking his fingers through her soft chestnut hair. Too many times his hands had secretly roamed her body, not to mention the numerous kisses he'd stolen from her lips while being especially careful not to wake her. Now, he was steadily growing weary. Claira's low rhythmic breathing was calming to his nerves and he found himself tempted to close his eyes. " How the tables have turned on you my friend, " hissed a venomous voice in his head. She was a snake charmer and he, a cobra in her basket. He should have left hours ago, but his heart wouldn't permit it. This strange intimacy with her was hypnotic and frightfully addictive. The truth was, he didn't want to leave. He was fighting a losing battle against sleep and his eyelids were too heavy to hold up any longer. After a few moments of hopeless struggling, he finally forfeited and allowed them to close. Just being with Claira had succeeded where alcohol and potions had failed, he was engaged in a peaceful slumber that lasted all the way till morning light. 


	22. Rejected Proposals

SPECIAL NOTE TO READERS: Thanks for all your reviews!!!  
  
Chapter: 22  
  
Severus awoke to the sweet scent of lavender. As his eyes flickered open, he became surprisingly aware of just how warm and cozy his body felt. A slight stir caused him to look down and his nose buried itself into a lock of brown wavy hair. Claira's head was still rested comfortably on his chest much as it had last night, except now her leg was draped across his hips and his hand had somehow found its way to her thigh. Another warm sensation washed over him and it had nothing to do with body heat. The feeling was rather..........pleasant. Gently placing his hand under her chin, he tilted her face up only to discover that she was still sound asleep. Brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, he whispered her name and lightly shook her. She moaned in protest and snuggled up closer to him. After speaking her name again, Claira slowly opened her eyes and smiled. Her cheeks immediately blushed red but she made no attempt to move away.  
  
" Sleep well? " His voice was a little gruff from his own night of much needed rest.  
  
" Mmmm hmmmm, " Claira hummed.  
  
Her eyes threatened to close again and a deep chortle escaped his throat.  
  
" Mmmm, tempting. However, I think the wiser action would be to get ourselves out of bed before Poppy-"  
  
WHACK. Out of nowhere, a rolled up newspaper smacked him painfully in shoulder and he had to use his arm as a shield to protect himself against the many blows that followed.  
  
" Oh this is a lovely sight indeed! Just look at the two of you, lazying about. Consider yourself lucky, Severus Snape, that I found you before any of the students had a chance to. Rumors would be spreading across this castle faster than wild fire. "  
  
Suddenly realizing her leg was straddled across his hip, Claira immediately withdrew it and sat up, thoroughly embarrassed. Severus on the other hand, simply rolled his eyes and casually tossed his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
" Claws in feline. I was just on my way out. "  
  
Rising slowly, he presented her with a calculated glare that halted her scolding and warned her to not to press the issue further. Snatching up his cloak, he tossed it over his shoulders and made for the door. Claira immediately busied herself with clearing the bed and tidying up the area, all the while dodging the punishing eyes of Madam Pomfrey. The woman was glaring at her from the edge of the bed with folded arms and a tapping foot. Unable to stand the tension any longer, Claira finally broke down and blurted out;  
  
" What? He came by last night to check in on me. We got caught up in a crossword puzzle and fell asleep, that's all. "  
  
" Innocent as it may be Claira, your actions were anything but professional. It was 'your' responsibility to remain alert and ready for any emergency. Severus should be ashamed of himself for bothering you at all last night. Oh I'll have a little chat with him later, mark my word! " Her brows furrowed in disapproval as she stared on. " I expected much better from you Claira. It isn't like you to act so carelessly. On a further note, I would strongly advise you to heed more caution, as well as 'discretion' when it comes to associating yourself with the other professors. That being said, we have loads of work to do. Albus has generously ordered us new furnishings for the infirmary and all this will need to be cleared away by noon. "  
  
Claira frowned as she watched Madam Pomfrey stomp away. Her scolding was well deserved. What on earth was she thinking? She wasn't, well not about work anyway. Her only thoughts last night were of Professor Snape and how wonderful it felt to lie in his arms. Never before had she felt so safe, so secure, so carefree.......or so stupid for behaving with such negligence. What if there 'had' been an emergency? Healing fatal wounds with her eyes closed would probably have proved to be a most difficult task to achieve. Whipping out her wand, Claira began shrinking the surrounding beds while mentally punishing herself for acting so selfishly.  
  
Severus entered the staffroom in a much lighter mood than usual. Strange how a little sleep can alter one's morning disposition. For instance, he completely neglected to present Madam Hooch with her daily scowl. Minerva's smug expression, derived from Gryffindor leading in house points, went unretorted, and the act of Filch's cat lapping it's tongue in her owner's cup hadn't been chastised with the customary shrewd remark or disgusted sneer. In fact, he completely ignored everyone as he swept over to serve himself a heaping mug of black coffee. He even managed to choke out a polite greeting to Professor Sprout before snatching the Daily Prophet out of her hand. This caused the entire room to fall silent with gaping mouths and stunned faces.  
  
Pulling out a chair, Severus sat down and casually took a sip of his liquid caffeine. Flipping the paper open, he settled his attention on the obituaries and began reading.  
  
" Xavier Flint...."  
  
Couldn't of happened to a more deserving man in his opinion, dirty old bastard.  
  
" Doris Sinclaire......"  
  
Now there's a surprise. Hogsmeade's town whore. Pregnant nine times and addicted to muggle crank, good riddens to bad rubbish.  
  
" Simore Flan- "  
  
His reading was suddenly interrupted by the sound of large wings flapping above. He raised his gaze just in time to catch a small scroll that was hurdling towards him. Under closer observation, he found the parchment to be magically sealed with a confidentiality charm, only the targeted recipient can handle it without severe consequences. Quickly breaking the bindings, Severus curiously unrolled it and perused the contents. He snorted several times throughout the read then ended the letter with a malicious grin. It appears Philip Grogger, an old school chum, was recently threatened with divorce by his wife Cleo who apparently had grown fed up with his over indulged drinking habits. He was seeking commissionary work on a draught that could possibly vanquish any and all traces of intoxication. Not prevent it, to cover it up so he could continue his escapades at the cabaret without his wife knowing.......how charming. Had it been four months ago, he would definitely have declined such an absurd request by tossing it straight into the nearest flaming inferno. Instead, he found himself scribbling down an agreeable response with the promise of Tuesday delivery. The opportunity to get his sweet innocent little Claira sloshed enough to test the potion was far too enticing to pass up. The draft was easy enough to concoct. He just needed time to weed through its formalities. Luckily, it was Sunday. If he worked diligently, the draught would be adequately prepared for consumption by this evening. Leaving plenty of time to spare for Monday night's session. Refastening the scroll to the awaiting owl's neck, he shoved it off and made to stand. The force of his legs sent the chair toppling over backwards, which he rudely left unturned as he whisked off towards the dungeons.  
  
Madam Pomfrey's anger soon lifted with the arrival of the hospital's new decorative dressings. The furniture was basically the same except the cupboards were slightly larger and the beds didn't creak as much when sat upon. The most noticeable change lay in the draperies which were beautifully tailored to fit the windows. It gave the room more of a friendly atmosphere. With matching bed sheets, the infirmary was looking pretty spiffy. Not to mention a little feminine, in which Madam Pomfrey seemed to be absolutely thrilled about. They ate lunch and dinner inside so they could complete the transition before eight o'clock's staff meeting. Dumbledore held one every Sunday, mainly for the adults to mingle and converse with each other. This was when Claira planned on asking Severus to the dance. She had been psyching herself up to it all day. He winked at her during the announcement last night, which surely meant that he wanted to partner with her as well. She figured it would be best to make the first move and claim him early before Professor Silverstone had a chance to work her magic on him. However, her confidence began to dwindle as the grains of sand in the hour glass dropped to signal seven forty five. Her stomach immediately lurched and her hands shook slightly when Madam Pomfrey waved her over to the door to leave. This might be a little more difficult than she thought.  
  
Professor Snape was standing solitaire in the staffroom when Dumbledore approached him. The other teachers were busy gossiping and swooning over Teresa's glowing pendant, which she triumphantly flashed around like a shinny new trophy. Albus lowered his head to stare at him over half moon spectacles, indicating a lecture was about to be administered.  
  
" Professor Silverstone has just informed me of your union, congratulations Severus. No doubt you both will enjoy yourselves at the Yule Ball. At the same time, I feel it is my obligation to ensure that all adjoining parties wear their pins accordingly. We wouldn't want any 'misunderstandings' among our single staff members who are still searching for partners, don't you agree? "  
  
Severus folded his arms stubbornly. By wearing that pendant, he would be making a complete mockery of himself in front of both his students and colleagues. Besides, he hadn't come up with an appropriate excuse for Claira yet. Not that he needed one. After all, she was only a silly girl with silly expectations. " Would this be the same silly girl you couldn't keep your hands off of last night, or lips for that matter? " Contradicted his rather annoying inner voice. Fine, so he had other means of making an ass out of himself. This wouldn't be one of them.  
  
" Albus, you know I detest these ridiculous exploits of yours. As such, I refuse to tack that gaudy contraption to my vest, cloak, or any other portion of my robes that will most certainly damage both my reputation and applicable attire. "  
  
" Severus, this has nothing to do with pride. I'm mearly suggesting you consider the feelings of other....."  
  
Dumbledore suddenly withdrew his remark and excused himself. Baffled, Severus stared after him. He hardly noticed the nervous looking female standing next to him until she cleared her throat to speak.  
  
" Professor Snape? "  
  
He immediately turned his attention to the red faced beauty by his side. As if she had addressed the whole room, everyone suddenly fell silent and looked onto her with extreme curiosity. They knew what was coming....and so did he. Her blushing cheeks and quivering lip did very little to hide her intentions. Bloody hell, did she have to do this in front of the entire staff? He watched reluctantly as she withdrew her hand from her pocket and held it out to him.  
  
" I was just wondering.......if you wanted to be my date for the Yule Ball. "  
  
She spoke softly in an almost hushed voice. Upon completion of her invitation, she stood on her tippy toes and shyly kissed his lips. Behind him, he heard several gasps and whispered words of sympathy. Claira was oblivious to all as she broke off the kiss and stared into his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear of rejection. His chest suddenly tightened, reminding him of the pain he felt halloween night when she had raked her hands across his opened wounds. Only in this instance, he had no visible afflictions in which to place blame. He choked upon his words, unable to give her a proper response. He just quietly watched as she dropped her gaze to her hand and frowned in confusion. The pendant hadn't lit as she predicted. Her eyes searched his face for answers, then settled on an approaching figure whose laughter was full of mockery and personal gratification. He should have known Teresa wouldn't be able to resist the urge to humiliate her, especially when given the perfect opportunity such as this.  
  
" Sorry Carol, he's already taken. Sevy asked me last night, just after dinner as a matter of fact. It was a bit of a surprise really. I hadn't expected to receive his invitation until much later. I can only assume he was afraid another man might steal me away. "  
  
She then snaked her arm around Professor Snape's waist and whispered something private in his ear, as if to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about. Claira swallowed hard and tore her eyes away, unable to stand the sight of another woman embracing him. Her heart sank deep in her chest. She was so confused. Hadn't they just spent the night in each other's arms? What of the rose....and the carriage ride?  
  
" Oh and just so you know, you're not supposed to kiss anyone until they say yes. I'm sure Albus will be glad to go over the rules with you once again. After that, if you like, I could lend you an experienced hand in finding a date of your 'own'. I think Argus is still available. "  
  
There were a few chuckles as Filch made a scowl and held Mrs. Noris close to his chest. Teresa gave Claira a nasty smile then sat back down on the couch. Severus watched the wave of emotions pass over her face. First there was humiliation, evident by the tomato red flush in her cheeks. Confusion came next as her eyes moved over his garments in search of the pin he was suppose to be wearing. Then his own eyes, seeking answers to questions about intimate moments they shared. He could tell she was feeling very misled. Lastly, came hurt. Her beautiful blue eyes, only moments ago bright and excited, were now dark and withdrawn. She immediately conjured up an invisible barrier that shielded her from further sortie. A sudden urge to comfort her washed over him. He wanted to bring back the animated smile and energy that only moments ago had radiated around her. However, with all attention on him, he pushed it back and held his composure. His expression remained cold and unscathed, perhaps even slightly irritated by the whole ordeal. Finally growing uncomfortable under his gaze, Claira forced a smile and brushed past him. He glanced over at Dumbledore who was staring at him with furrowed brows and a look that said, " Now see what you've done. Should have listened to reason when it was so graciously offered to you. " Damn that old man and his all-knowing ways. Thankfully, he took the initiative to break the tension by raising his hands. He called everyone's attention his way and began his routine babbling.  
  
Severus glided over to an armchair by the fireplace and slumped into it. Dumbledore's words carried on completely ignored as he kept close watch on Claira. She hadn't looked over at him, not once. They always stole glances at each other during staff meetings. He slowly grew unhinged by her continued disregard of his presence, so much that he took to creating small disturbances just to get her attention. He cleared his throat several times, but was only rewarded with a glass of water by Madam Pomfrey. So he began fiddling with the coins in his pocket, hoping the annoying clicking and clanking would at least earn him a quick peek. Once again his plans were foiled, this time by the reprimanding glares and swatting hand of Minerva telling him to stop it. He huffed at her and folded his arms, seething in his own private rage. His final attempt, stretching his arms above his head while yawning loudly, caused Albus to halt his speech and call upon him.  
  
" Yes Severus, you have a suggestion? "  
  
Everyone whirled around to face him. Claira's head was facing his direction but her eyes lingered on his boot.  
  
" Damnit, " Severus muttered to himself.  
  
" Excellent idea Professor, a drawing! All those who are in favor of drawing names from a hat, raise your hand. "  
  
There were a few murmurs and light debates before several teachers flagged their arms in the air.  
  
" All opposed...." Only a couple were in disagreement with his plan. They all received bantering sneers, regardless of the fact that he hadn't the slightest idea what the discussion was about.  
  
" Then it's settled. The chaperone for the upcoming Hosgsmeade trip will be randomly selected from a batch of names. Let's have a round of applause for our esteemed Potion Master, whose genius has once again proven invaluable. "  
  
The clapping soon ended with the sound of scooting chairs and shuffling feet. The staff meeting had been adjourned and everyone was rushing towards the door to enjoy the few hours of student free time they had left. Severus called after Claira, but she had already woven her way through the crowd. In a flash, she vanished under the archway and out of sight. By the time he reached the corridor, she had completely disappeared. 


	23. Intoxicating Splendor

NOTE TO READERS: *Ducks to avoid flying objects* Sorry it took me so long to post. This chapter was an intricate one that needed time to write. Though Claira may not be aware of it, she is slowly breaking down Severus's walls.....and he has so many of them. One of my readers, Sanquine, has brought up a point I wanted to address. Last chapter, I purposely took Snape out of character, towards the end, to show his immaturity and inability to cope with the foreign feelings he felt when Claira ignored him. As I have hinted upon many times, he cannot control his actions and words around her. It's typical for a man to act in such a way, they are all whinny little brats....Snape can just cover it up better than most. Need I remind you of the down right 'hissy fit' he threw in POA when Black escaped from the castle? He wasn't exactly mister cool when he went off on Harry right in front of the Minister of Magic! J.K.R 'herself' made it a special point to display his childishness.  
  
Three chapters and counting.....The next chapter will be fun, as Claira finds a date. You didn't think she was going alone did you? It should be interesting to see Snape's reaction to the mystery man. He may have redeemed himself a little, but he still deserves punishment! Curious as to whom? Reread chapter: 21, it was his introduction into the story, though he won't be staying long. I can't juggle that many characters! If you haven't caught on, every chapter is filled with hints of future events. Even as soon as three or four inserts ahead of itself. You may want to go back and reflect.  
  
Chapter: 23  
  
Claira could hardly wait to be alone. Dashing off to the private sanctuary of her rooms, she locked the door and slumped onto her bed with a heavy sigh. Hugging her pillow tightly, she smothered her face into it and allowed her emotions to consume her. Did this not confirm her suspicions? Professor Snape had asked Teresa to the Yule Ball, surely this meant he had some type of feelings for her. The more she thought about it, the angrier Claira grew with herself for falling for him in the first place. There's no sense in denying it, she was completely and utterly infatuated with the man. Just the sound of his silky voice in her ear was enough to make her heart crumble like a foil candy wrapper. He brought out secret desires in her that she didn't even know existed. They were certainly ones she had never felt before. So what was she to him? A pastime muse? A mediocre prize in his cracker jack box of fun? How dare he claim her lips and make her feel as though he wanted her. Reaching into her night stand, Claira withdrew the box Severus had given her and unsheathed the rose. She placed it carefully on her pillow and stared at its beauty in wonder....there had been moments. Tender touches, intimate stares that could not easily be forgotten.  
  
Monday evening......  
  
Arms tucked firmly behind his back, Severus impatiently paced his study while muttering silent curses to himself. It was five minutes before eight and Claira had yet to arrive for their testing session. His eyes kept flickering towards the bottle of Peach Brandy he had brewed 'special' for her. Time was steadily fleeting and his confidence in her attendance deteriorated with each passing grain of sand. At seven fifty nine, he removed his cloak and lazily draped it across his leather sofa. With eight oclock's passing, he shredded his vest and slung it irritably over the back of his armchair. When the hour glass signaled five after, Severus grumpily unclasped the first few buttons of his undershirt and slumped onto his couch in defeat. Clearly, she was still upset about last night's little incident. Whatever the devil for? He made no promises to the girl. Must she foolishly wear her heart above her head? Laying his body along the full length of the cushions, Severus placed one of his hands behind his neck and retrieved his wand with the other. With closed eyes, he gave it a quick wave around the room. A soft hum instantly dulled his ears with the lethargic sounds of classical music. He needed a distraction to keep his mind off of Claira.  
  
Just outside of Professor Snape's study........  
  
Claira stood with her fingers gripped tightly around the door handle. She had been there for some time, debating and arguing with herself. Her heart told her to run, but her pride was forcing her to honor her obligation. She had made an agreement. Rejection certainly wasn't an adequate excuse to break her word. Besides, she truly enjoyed their sessions together. Romantic feelings aside, his unpredictable behavior, sardonic sneers, and abasing snippets made him very entertaining company. Merlin knows she hadn't any friends, unless she counted Madam Pomfrey. It was time to box up her girlish tendencies and act like the adult she was. Pouting outside his door proved nothing but her own immaturity. Collecting her thoughts and straightening her posture, Claira confidently pushed through the door.  
  
Her jaw literally dropped to the floor as she entered the room. The first thing she noticed was the soft romantic glow of light provided by the fire. The flames appeared to be dancing perfectly in sync with the ghostly chime of........music? Stepping further into the study, Claira gasped. Professor Snape was laying handsomely on the sofa with his eyes closed and shirt halfway unbuttoned. The felayed fabric exposed a generous amount of raven colored chest hair that instantly caused a blush to form on her cheeks. As if that weren't enough, next to him lay a sleek bottle of wine, accompanied solely by a fancy brandy snifter filled with ice. What in the name of Merlin was he playing at? Curiosity soon got the better of her and she moved in closer to see if he was, in fact, sleeping. Glancing over at the hour glass on his desk, Claira discovered, to much dismay, that she was a good thirty minutes late for their meeting. Drawing her attention back to Severus, she quietly crept along the side of the couch and leaned forward.  
  
" You are late, Miss Bell. "  
  
Startled, Claira stumbled backwards, almost knocking over the liquor bottle and cloth-covered table it rested upon.  
  
" How....how did you know it was me? "  
  
Opening his eyes, Severus sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cushions. His voice was cool and calm, despite the fact that his heart was racing with excitement over her arrival.  
  
" Your skirt swishes irritably when you walk..." He casually stood and walked over to the wine display he had prepared for her early.  
  
" Your breathing is unsteady when you are nervous....or excited." Picking up the bronze bottle of Peach Brandy, Severus filled it's glass companion and lifted it from the table.  
  
" You have an annoying habit of mumbling your thoughts aloud...."  
  
Approaching her, he made eye contact and paused his commentary just long enough to brush away a lock of her brown wavy hair that had fallen astray.  
  
" And your hair has a most potent scent of lavender. "  
  
Claira immediately pulled away from him, defensively. Dropping his hand, Severus furrowed his brows at her reaction to his touch. It was only a slight head gesture, but to him, it was a blatant slap in the face. Her rejection, though subtle as it was, hit him hard. He was not prepared to lose his physical privileges. He had grown accustomed to communicating with her through body language. So much more could be said and understood during their physical exchanges. It had become somewhat habitual for him to stroke her blushing cheeks and soft chestnut hair as part of his daily routine. Denying him access now was....was.....preposterous! Shoving the glass of brandy at her, Severus scowled and stormed towards his desk confounded by her sudden dismissal.  
  
" You know I don't drink, Professor. " Claira proclaimed, as she stared reluctantly at her cup.  
  
" You do tonight. Intoxication for this potion is a requirement, not a request," Severus snapped.  
  
Claira made to protest but was immediately cut off by a loud agitated snarl.  
  
" You agreed to test any and all material Miss Bell, foreign or otherwise. These guidelines do not exclude or limit to that which you may find distasteful or unappealing to your tongue. Perhaps you should have considered your position more carefully before jumping at my proposal. Verbal contracts in the wizarding world are magically sealed, my dear. You have no choice but to abide by my rules. You 'will' drink that, and you 'will' continue to do so until I see it fit for you to stop. "  
  
Claira frowned at him for reprimanding her in such a way. It was the first time he had ever spoken to her in that tone of voice. She could feel her face beginning to burn and quickly turned away, afraid that prolonged exposure to his icy cold glare would result in tears. Hands shaking in a mixture of pain and anger, Claira unsteadily brought the glass to her lips and tilted it backwards. The liquid scorched her throat as if she had just swallowed acid. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut tightly and fought back the urge to cry out in anguish.  
  
Behind her, Severus clenched his jaw and cursed himself. His behavior towards her was unacceptable. The girl had every right to be weary of his touch. Within the past few days, he had caused her to feel pleasure, pain, confusion, jealousy, and anger. She was merely protecting her heart...and with do cause. He had only wished to bed her, nothing more, nothing less. It was her purity he craved, the innocence he had never known, felt....tasted. She was a beautifully kept flower and he, a rifler bee, visiting her bloomage only to steal the sweet nectar within. " Ah, but that's not enough for you 'now' is it? You want it all, greedy bastard, heart included. Well good luck! A woman like that, is high maintenance my friend. She'll expect every bit of it in return and unless you are prepared to do so, leave her alone, " spouted off his rather unruly inner voice. He must admit though, the thought of her waking up in his arms every morning, same as she had yesterday, was very intriguing indeed. However, he was not equipped with the type of feelings she required. Claira deserved a man who could love her, care for her properly, give her all that she desired and more......yet there was something inside, a motivation, that was persuading him to try. Rage slowly began to build in his chest once again. He did not wish to have such intimate feelings for her, or anyone for that matter.  
  
" I'll be back to check on your progress shortly. Pace yourself Claira, I do not wish you ill....nor do I fancy the idea of you regurgitating tonight's feast all over my leather sofa. "  
  
Spinning on his heel, Severus cascaded towards the door. He needed a long walk to rid his mind of the ludicrous thoughts within. Though, he was probably going to need assistance in doing so. Perhaps a stroll to his private stores was in order?  
  
One hour later, Severus returned to his study feeling 'much' more relaxed then he had prior to his departure. Upon entering, his ears instantly fixated upon the low hum of music filling the otherwise silent room. Retrieving his wand, he quickly dismissed the symphonious racket and settled his attention on Claira. She was beautifully sprawled out on his antique rug by the fire, shoes removed, and a fresh glass of brandy in her hand. His eyes immediately dropped to her nude legs, which were provocatively gliding over its textured surface in a slow scissor-like motion. Her gaze soon drifted his way and she smiled softly in approval of his presence. Severus couldn't help but grin at her current state of drunkenness. He had yet to see Claira so comfortable and layed back. It was quite becoming.  
  
Without speaking a word, he strolled over to his armchair and slumped into it. After discreetly adjusting his position to accommodate his ever-growing arousal, he casually lounged backwards and watched her movements with intense interest. Claira continued to sip at her glass while occasionally glancing up at him. Her eyes were tenderly glazed over and her cheeks were partially flushed from the abundance of alcohol she had consumed.  
  
" Wouldn't you like some Professor? It's rather good once you get over the initial shock. " *hiccup*  
  
Claira suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth and began giggling hysterically. She let out a great pig snort during mid chuckle and instantly hit the floor rolling in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.  
  
" I think I'll pass, " Severus declined, while smirking at her ridiculous behavior.  
  
Finally calming down, she made a small pouty face and returned to her drink. After taking a few more swigs in silence, she carefully placed her glass down on the rug and crawled towards him.  
  
" Are you just gonna sit there all night, gawking at me? It's rude. Why don't you join me on the floor? This rug is 'really' comfy. "  
  
When Severus shook his head in refusal, Claira boldly grabbed his hand and began tugging at it. He reluctantly pulled back, though only weakly. Half of him wanted to give in to her, while the other half knew nothing good would come of it......well nothing of significant virtue anyway. With a malicious glint in her eye, Claira applied her full body weight and forcefully dragged him down. He clumsily tumbled over her during the struggle and landed flat on his back with a loud thud. Suppressing a smile of triumphant, Claira leaned over him, giggling girlishly.  
  
" I'm so sorry Professor. Did I hurt you much? "  
  
She then proceeded to smooth her hands over his chest as if checking for any injuries she may have inflicted. Severus's gaze instinctually drifted down her body as she did so. Somehow during their scuffle, the first few buttons of her blouse had become separated, which provided him with a most generous view of her cleavage. Her voluptuous breasts, to much of his disappointment, were modestly concealed beneath a pink silk bra. Quickly traveling down further, his eyes settled restlessly between her legs, which were parted just wide enough to reveal a matching set of panties. The pressure in his already constricted pants grew profoundly, causing a low ravenous growl to escape his throat. Swiftly sitting up, Severus tore his eyes from Claira and feebly focused his thoughts on the crackling fire nearby. Perhaps he should just take her and be done with it. There's only so much sexual tension a man can endure before finally reaching the point of complete insanity.  
  
He could feel Claira's eyes upon him and daringly turned to meet her gape. She was now laying beautifully on her back with her knees slightly bent and her arms stretched out above her head. Her expression was ponderous and inquisitive, but he didn't think much on it as his eyes were already busy roaming her body once again. His gaze feasted hungrily upon her flesh like a predator to his prey, ruminating the portion he wanted to devoir first......St. Mungo's, prepare thy room.  
  
" Professor? "  
  
His eyes immediately tore from her breasts. How long had he been staring? Afraid his voice would fail him, Severus responded by raising his brow in acknowledgment.  
  
" Do you think I'm pretty? "  
  
His mouth prompted the words before he even had time to register her inquiry.  
  
" Most definitely. "  
  
Grinning wryly, he used her question as a plausible excuse to advance on her. With full intentions of elaborating his answer, Severus stretched his arm across Claira's waist and slowly lifted himself over her. After parting her thighs with his hips, he lowered his body and aggressively pressed his arousal between her legs. He laughed mischievously as she breathed out a small gasp of surprise. With both elbows on either side of her head, Severus gently brushed his mouth across her lips while grinding his 'need' against hers in a slow seductive motion. Just as he was about to stifle her moans with a kiss, Claira whispered softly.  
  
" Mmmm good, cause I think you're pretty too. "  
  
Bowing his head, Severus snorted aloud at the very humor of her comment. He hadn't quite realized just how inebriated her actually was until those words were spoken. No one in their right mind would ever call him 'pretty', well not unless they wanted to be hexed into oblivion. Cursing through gritted teeth, he pulled himself up and slipped his fingers into his vest pocket. Claira groaned in protest, but he forced himself to ignore her as he retrieved the small yellow vial she was to test.  
  
The withdrawal from her body had caused the restriction in his pants to grow excruciatingly painful. It wouldn't be the first time he was left feeling this way and he wondered, was she even worth all the bother? Turning his attention towards Claira, his eyes dropped to survey the slightly damp fabric between her thighs........ hell yes. If only she knew how close he was to abandoning all moral values and reason....or perhaps she did. Why else would she not fix her bloody skirt right? If not to revel in his mental and 'oh so physical' torture. "She's drunk you dunderhead! Not exactly the basis for vindictive malice." Severus was really beginning to despise that damn conscience of his. Why must he always be the level- headed one? Well, we'll just see how contained his actions are the next time Claira pushes him to the edge, sloshed or not!  
  
Helping her sit up, Severus handed Claira the potion and prompted her to drink it. She held it to her lips for a few moments then lowered it back down.  
  
" What exactly will this do, might I ask? " *hiccup*  
  
More giggles......it was becoming rather annoying.  
  
" It will cleanse your body of all the alcohol it consumed within the proximity of two hours. Quantity matters not. Taking into consideration the amount of embarrassment you will surely feel once you realize how foolishly you've acted, there are virtually no side effects. "  
  
He watched as her eyes drifted wantingly to her nearly empty glass of brandy.  
  
" Can't I at least finish my drink? "  
  
" No. "  
  
" Just one more sip? "  
  
" No. "  
  
Severus reached over and snatched the glass up just as Claira was about to make the grab. She made a pouty face as he lifted the cup to his lips, grinned devilishly, and drank its remaining contents in one full swallow. She whimpered softly in defeat for a short while before abruptly turning her attention to his mouth. Though heavily glazed over, Severus could still detect the hint of mischief in her eyes. He watched with extreme fascination as she advanced towards him, in a slow erotic cat crawl. Straddling his hips, Claira placed her hands on his shoulders and tenderly pressed her lips to his.  
  
" A taste then? "  
  
Severus hesitated his answer, though only briefly.  
  
" Yes. "  
  
She immediately deepened the kiss by roaming his mouth with her tongue. Her body soon followed suit and she began moving against him in the form of a seductive lap dance....as he promised himself early, he wasn't going to be the one to stop it this time. Placing his hands on her thighs, he quickly took to caressing her skin in perfect rhythm with her movements. He eventually allowed his fingers to stray beneath her skirt with full intentions of exploring the silky texture of her panties. Moments later, they both moaned in delight on accord of his thumb grazing a small section of moist fabric. Suddenly feeling thirsty himself, Severus broke off their kiss and withdrew his wand from the leg of his boot. Summoning the bottle of brandy, he snaked his free hand through Claira's hair and gently tilted her head back.  
  
" It would be rude of you, Miss Bell, not to offer your host a taste as well. "  
  
Tilting the bottle to her neck, he poured a generous amount over her skin and allowed it to trickle down her shoulder, cleavage, and some other unknown coordinate beneath her blouse. No worry, he'll soon discover its final destination. Carefully placing the bottle down on the rug beside him, Severus lowered his mouth to her neck and slowly began to lap up the spilled liquor with his tongue. Each lick was loftily ended with a provocative kiss against her skin as he leisurely worked his way down. His skilled technique rewarded him several gasps of pleasure during his journey across Claira's throat and down her cleavage. Her flesh felt warm and milky smooth under his lips and she tasted of peaches, salt, and some other sweet surprise he was unfamiliar with.....simply delicious. Wrapping a firm arm around her body for support, he gently bent her backwards, though only slightly, to give himself easier access to her breasts.  
  
Claira began to move her hips tenaciously over his arousal, to much of his delight, as he unbuttoned her blouse and fumbled with the clasp on her bra. Finally losing patience, he snatched up his wand and used an effortless wave of magic to release the insufferable constriction. Tossing the otherwise worthless piece of wood aside, he quickly brushed away the fabric and exhaled a deep ragged breath at the sight of her erected nipples. A dangerous, almost animal-like growl, escaped his throat as he lowered his mouth to her bosom. Claira cried out in fruition as he proceeded to swirl his tongue around the pinkest portion of her skin. Careful not to neglect the other, he suckled her breasts until they were both a right swollen shade of red. After taking a moment to admire his work with pride, Severus once again claimed her lips in a slow passionate kiss.  
  
Exploring hands soon found their way back beneath her skirt and lingered daringly at the base of her panties. Gingerly tucking the fabric aside, he directed his palm over her heat and 'oh so gently' pressed his finger into her wetness. She felt like liquid fire, and it was all he could do to keep from climaxing in his pants. Claira bucked wildly under his touch and broke off their kiss to stare at him in curious wonder. Merlin, she was so innocent. He would have to tread carefully if he wanted to savor her chastity. Withdrawing his hand, Severus focused his attention on his own clothing and quickly tended to the buttons on his shirt. In doing so, he failed to witness Claira's consumption of the potion he had given her earlier. Shirt removed, he pulled her close and reveled in the sensational feeling of her firm breasts against his chest. Lowering his head, he began to ravish her neck with hot moist kisses while whispering utter nonsense against her throat.  
  
Tenderly laying her body down on the rug, Severus propped himself up above her and unbuckled his belt. Cursing through clenched teeth, he fumbled clumsily with his zipper in an attempt to free its snag on his undergarments. Groaning in frustration, he finally abandoned the tangled mess and dropped his hand to her thigh. Snaking his fingers under her skirt, he gripped the side her panties and tugged lightly.  
  
" Let's remove these shall we? "  
  
" Yes......I mean no. "  
  
He immediately froze stiff at her rebuttal.  
  
" Pardon? "  
  
Claira's eyes were no longer glazed over. He noticed this immediately. They were now clearly blazing bright blue with a heated passion that far exceeded that of the flames beside him. His gaze instantly fell to her hand which was still tightly clutching the potion vial, the now 'empty' potion vial.......damn. She gave him a great shove off and he toppled over onto the floor, dangerously close to the fire. Scrambling to stand, Claira pulled her blouse together and began buttoning it sloppily.  
  
" How dare you take advantage of me you....you..."  
  
" Hold your tongue you silly girl. It was you, not I, who made the first advancements. I regret nothing and damn sure won't apologize for your ludicrous behavior. Drunk or not, I think you knew exactly what you were doing. If anyone is to be angry, it should be I with you for......teasing. " Severus spat defensively while reaching for his shirt.  
  
Claira snatched it up before he could properly grab it, scrunched it into a ball, then chucked it at him viciously. He had to physically fight back the urge to smirk at her current state of rage. So, there was a little hell cat behind that submissive exterior of hers. Had her anger not been directed at him, he would have found it rather sexy.  
  
" Don't you turn this around on me! I can assure you Professor, had I not been heavily under the influence, I never would have conducted myself in such a culpable manner. Despite what you may think of me, I don't part my legs that freely....for any man. Especially one whose perverse agenda includes seducing gullible females into thinking he's......available. "  
  
" I see. So that's what this little charade is about then, jealousy. You conceive Professor Silverstone to be my paramour......how delectably amusing Miss Bell. "  
  
Grinning pretentiously, Severus rose to his feet and haughtily tossed his shirt on, purposely neglecting to refasten the buttons. He then approached Claira with a new found strut of arrogance, thoroughly pleased with himself for attracting such a young beauty to his clutches.  
  
" All hot and bothered over it, are we? "  
  
Claira immediately turned her reddened cheeks away from him, angry and embarrassed by his accurate assessment of her feelings. Not that they really mattered, he was obviously just using her as a pawn in his wanton games of self indulgence. As if reading her mind, Severus aggressively gripped her chin and forced her gaze back upon him.  
  
" Never have I, nor ever will I, find romantic interest, of any sort, in that trollop. "  
  
Claira stared at him in disbelief for a few moments before responding to his comment in a barely audible whisper.  
  
" Then why did you ask her to the Yule Ball......instead of me? "  
  
Sighing heavily in frustration, he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She denied him not, and to this, he was both relieved and grateful.  
  
" It's just a silly dance Claira. It means nothing. "  
  
Her body instantly melted into his embrace like a plastic spool to his cauldron of flame, and Claira damned her heart for its betrayal.  
  
" I just thought that you....that maybe we...." Her voice trailed off at the risk of sounding foolish. Instead, her eyes scanned his face for answers to questions she dared not ask. Mostly because she was too shy, mainly for the fear of what he might actually say.  
  
" I don't expect you to fully comprehend the reasoning behind my actions. Only to know this....."  
  
Severus paused briefly, but only to stroke her cheek in a most tender fashion.  
  
" At no time did I ever intend to upset you. It is 'not' a consideration I make often. As such, I'll admit myself to be a right selfish bastard at times, surely that is no secret. "  
  
He then hesitated his next sentence, care of deep contemplation and stipulation as to its true meaning.  
  
" For this, I will most certainly be condemned to hell, however, I'd like to think there is still something plausible, perhaps even something of significance within me that might be of some value......to you. If any of these words have earned your confidence, or at the least, patience, then I ask that you accept my hand as a promise of my most sincere and woeful intentions. Otherwise, you are dismissed to your chambers. Sleep well Claira, and when you wake in the morning, consider our agreement terminated, permanently. I do not wish to put you through any further sortie. "  
  
He immediately took a step back from her and extended his palm. With his other hand, he snapped his fingers and the door behind her swung open with a loud bang.....she was to make a choice. The darkness in his eyes prompted her attention towards the exit. He was after all, a skilled master of deceit. Yet, the sheer intensity of his stare awoke an unfamiliar curiosity within her heart, a feeling of hope, which compelled her to stay. Logic or emotion, that was her challenge.....and she made her decision based upon the teachings of her mother. Follow thy heart, and its path will never lead thee astray. Releasing the breath she had been holding, Claira boldly placed her hand within his and smiled softly.  
  
Assertively drawing her near, Severus guided Claira's arms around his neck and slowly wrapped his own around her body. All the while, anxiety, doubt, and reservation coursed through his veins, like a venomous poison. In her eyes, lay an undiscovered world of mysterious intrigue. He alone would be the one to explore her......and he, Severus Snape, Master of potions, ex- deatheater, and currently worlds biggest fool, was scared as hell.  
  
" I would have chosen the door, " He whispered cooly in her ear before claiming her mouth for a most passionate kiss.  
  
It was well past midnight when they finally broke apart. Completely forgotten, was the previous day which had ended the month of November. The scheduled torture from Voldemort had never come, nor had it even crossed Severus's mind. His thoughts were deftly distracted, particularly by the beautiful woman in his arms, whom at the moment, was looking onto him with a favored glint in her eye.  
  
" So, where do we go from here? "  
  
Allowing her ample space to breathe, Severus moved away and quickly rebuttoned his shirt. He would have to earn Claira's trust before further advancements could be made, physically.  
  
" Follow me...and I'll show you, " he replied, while crossing the room to retrieve his cloak.  
  
Leading Claira towards the door, he guided her under the archway, through the winding tunnels, and eventually, out of the dungeons. She trailed him in silence as they traveled along the deserted corridors. Her legs began to give out after the seventh flight of stairs, and she wondered, just where the devil was he taking her? Her question would soon be answered as Severus paused in front of a large oak door leading to one of the castle towers. Exactly which one Claira couldn't tell, she rarely ventured outside the infirmary except to eat, sleep, and test potions. Perhaps she could coax him into giving her a tour one afternoon.  
  
" Alohomora. "  
  
The lock instantly clicked and Severus held the door open for her to step through. Claira was immediately greeted with a large sticky spider web which grossly clung to her skin, hair, and clothes. Squealing, she vigorously began brushing off the tangled net, all the while glaring at him accusingly.  
  
" My apologies....." Severus snorted, as he helped peel the cobweb out of her hair.  
  
Once she was freed, Claira peered around the room, then gasped. The place was plagued with them, as well as broken furniture, dust that voided all color, and shadows that hid secrets she didn't care to know about. The single beam of light, provided by the glow of the moon, put the finishing touches on a very haunting image indeed.  
  
" Um, is this what you wanted to show me? " She asked, trying her best to mask the disappointment on her face.  
  
" Patience, my lady, " he breathed in her ear as he brushed past.  
  
Unlatching the clasp on the window, Severus pushed it opened and climbed out onto the ledge. Turning back, he extended his hand towards Claira and beckoned for her to follow. After much persuasion, she finally accepted it, and he effortlessly hoisted her up. The wind playfully whipped through his robes as he stepped out onto the small platform. The view was still just as glorious as he had remembered it to be, and he gloated at its brilliance. Behind him, Claira let out a small gasp of amazement and he whirled around to witness the wide eyed, gaping, expression of awe on her face.  
  
An infinity of twinkling stars hovered above, below, and all around. If she hadn't felt stone beneath her feet, Claira would have sworn she was flying. It was the greatest of magic, a marvel, that extended beyond all comprehension and reason. The night sky was a phenomenon, one she had never truly appreciated until that moment.  
  
" A younger version of myself used to frequent this place. As you can imagine, I spent a great deal of time gazing at the stars. I was a foolish lad, seeking knowledge and guidance through celestial influence. It was a poor substitute for the parental shepherding I lacked, but I needed assistance in finding the correct path to follow, as I often lost my way. " Severus admitted while kneeling on the marble footing to sit.  
  
" So what happened, why did you stop coming? " Claira asked, confounded by the notion that he was actually sharing a bit of his past with her.  
  
" I found a detour. " He stated, flatly.  
  
The expression on his face quickly turned dark and withdrawn, which told Claira to cease her prying. Oh well, she was happy with the tiny inkling of history he had offered her. It probably took a great deal of sacrifice on his part, and oddly enough, she felt privileged.  
  
A chilled breeze suddenly swept past and Claira immediately hugged herself in a feeble attempt to keep warm. She was frightfully under dressed for the occasion.  
  
" If I may." Severus implied, while adjusting his position to accommodate her.  
  
Claira instantly accepted his proposal and within seconds, she was sitting comfortably between his legs with her back molded perfectly against his chest. Grabbing the hem of his cloak, Severus possessively wrapped his arms around her. Which, cleverly shielded both their bodies from the cold night air.  
  
" Are you familiar with the constellations? " His words were spoken in a deep base tone, while his lips purposely brushed across her ear.  
  
" Not exactly, " Claira whispered breathlessly.  
  
" Well then, allow me to educate you. "  
  
Leaning her head back against his shoulder, Claira closed her eyes as he lavished her neck with soft kisses in between perfectly choreographed sentences. He was a master with his tongue, every harmonic word touched her heart and tickled her ears......he was his own magic wonder.  
  
--------------------------- Hungarian Horntail: Thanks for your input. I have a lot of learning to do as far as writing. I'm obviously not a professional. I'm just having fun. I did take your advice with this next chapter and tried to watch my spelling. You will see that I replaced vile with vial and so forth. I'm sure there are still plenty of mistakes though, perhaps you could overlook them?  
  
Sioux: I am honored to be the first story you reviewed! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
  
SnapeGirl5: I wrote you an email already. I will try to post the next chapter quickly, to avoid your wrath!  
  
Sevy hero: I don't know about that, but I am flattered you think so!  
  
Purple star: I had grown tired of SS/HG fics, no offense to people who write them, I just have read far too many. That's why I chose to write this story, to give others a break as well. I'm glad you are enjoying this.  
  
Arwen2002: Yes, Snape is a brat! LoL I'm glad you picked up on that. I wouldn't feel too sorry for Sirius, he isn't the sweet innocent doggy you may think he is. He will be very naughty, very soon...*Claps hands over mouth* Oops, I just gave away a plot hint. Oh well, while I'm at it, here's another one; He also has a hand in getting Claira a date for the Yule Ball.  
  
Sanquine: I sort of responded to your review in the NOTE TO READERS up top. I wanted everyone to understand my intentions. There is a method to my madness! I'm glad you like it so far.  
  
Minafinnes: I noticed that too. I lack experience with writing, so each chapter I learn a little more. Thanks for reviewing.  
  
Anna: Thanks and I will!  
  
Caro: Now, now, lets not be hasty! LOL He will get what he deserves in the next chapter....heheheheeeeee!  
  
XxDarkGoddessxX: I'm glad you think so, though there are a lot of great Snape fics out there. I'm working as fast as time permits, but I don't want to rush and kill my story.  
  
Lisawescott: I think you summed up the chapter perfectly. That is the exact the impression I wanted to leave on the readers. Thanks for reassuring me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and understood what I was trying to achieve with this as well.  
  
SeverusSnape: You sure do get in trouble a lot don't you? Good thing you don't have Snape as a teacher, or you'd be in detention every night......wait, that doesn't sound so bad! I've read your new chapter, but since I left a comment on your note to readers, it won't let me leave a review. I loved the bantering going on between Black and Severus, it was highly entertaining. I can't wait till your next posting so get to sneaking on that computer!  
  
Meri Miku Miyu: He's just in denial of his true feelings for her. What better way to cover up the fact that you care about someone then to be a complete asshole? All my readers seemed to be mad at him right now, which is exactly what I wanted. Muwahahaha!  
  
Ami: That's it in a nutshell! Thanks for reading and reviewing.  
  
Helena: He is a fool, but aren't all men? He will make amends, in his own way.  
  
Elyse: LOL. Your review made me giggle. Don't worry, Teresa 'will' get hers.....oh yes, she will. *rubs hands and glances around mischievously*  
  
SPECIAL THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEWED THIS, AND ALL OTHER CHAPTERS!!!!!! 


	24. Tainted Affections

Chapter: 24  
  
Gathering his greatest call, Apollo, the Ministry's most esteemed eagle, valiantly swooped through the double doors of the Great Hall and sounded his arrival with a magnificent screech. All eyes immediately tore from their breakfast plates to watch the majestic bird flaunt its enormous wings during his fanciful flight to the Head table. Dumbledore, rose in honor of the eagle's presence and held out his arm to welcome the delivery. However, the bird was instructed otherwise and adjusted his path midway to soar straight towards the Potions Master with calculated precision. Everyone's gape now rested upon Professor Snape, as Apollo ended his long journey with a masterful landing in front of him, perfected by years of loyal service. He then cleverly used his beak to untie the silver ribbon, which secured the given scroll to his leg, and graciously presented it to him using his clawed foot. Severus in turn, accepted it with a polite nod and motioned for the bird to select a ration from his plate. The great eagle immediately lowered his head and bowed before him, with one wing cordially raised in respect. Looking at the dish, he smugly stiffed his beak at it then took off in flight, too proud to consume the human's left over hand-me-downs.  
  
Ignoring the bird's arrogance, Severus quickly broke the binding on the scroll and carefully unrolled it. An expression of pride washed over his face as he meticulously read through its contents. It was from the Ministry's High Council. A special colloquy had been arranged in 'his' honor at the London Conference Center for Wizarding Affairs, CCWA, for discussion and evaluation of his Deflector Potion. This was to be commenced at noon on the nineteenth of December, in which he would be required to present them with extensive research parchments as well as a full demonstration of the 'said' potion's capabilities. Merlin, they even hired a professional tester on his behalf! Trying to suppress a grin, Severus glanced over at Dumbledore, who was already beaming at him with a fatherly nod of approval. His eyes then flickered to the empty chair that was Claira's. She hadn't made it down for breakfast that morning. Not that he blamed her, their little venture outside carried on awfully late last night, five a.m. to be precise. Pity. He wanted to share his moment of triumph with her......exactly why, he wasn't certain. No matter, he didn't have time to worry with such nonsense, he had to focus his attention on preparation. He had less than three weeks to organize himself, and his notes were utter chaos. Rising from the table, Severus made haste to his office, not only to revel in his own victory, but also to write his formal letter of acceptance to the Ministry. Calligraphy, using his best quill and most expensive bottle of ink should do the trick.  
  
Madam Pomfrey shot Claira a chastising scowl as she slumped into the infirmary with slouching shoulders and partially closed eye lids. Reaching into her desk drawer, she withdrew a vial of 'pepper up' potion and tossed it at her. Claira of course, fumbled the catch and wound up dropping it on the floor. Luckily, it had been charmed prior to her arrival and simply rolled away unscathed. The girl's absence at breakfast told her that Severus, once again, had broken their agreement to limit their testing sessions to a set curfew. Huffing and tutting in disapproval, Madam Pomfrey hottily scribbled her signature down on the completed list of supplies in front of her and rolled the scroll up with a snap. She then turned her attention to Claira, who had already taken the draught and was staring back at her with a sweet smile, ridden with guilt.  
  
" Claira, if these sessions of yours continue to interfere with your performance, then I must ask that you seriously reconsider your position. Need I keep reminding Severus that your priorities lie within this infirmary, and not his private quarters? "  
  
Claira's eyes suddenly widened. What exactly was the woman insinuating? Surely Madam Pomfrey didn't think they were using their testing sessions as a cover up for more sensorial activities. Her cheeks instantly flushed fire red at the mere suggestion of the sort.  
  
" Madam Pomfrey, we never....I mean....his rooms....I've never been....we haven't... "  
  
Suddenly realizing the evocative nature of her comment, which was not intended, Madam Pomfrey immediately halted Claira's babbling to clarify the point she was trying to make.  
  
" That's not what I meant, dear. I'm simply implying that he needs to respect your loyalties to this hospital and conduct his activities according to your schedule. We can't have you exhausting yourself every night over matters that are not part of your job description. Perhaps Dumbledore can hire Severus his OWN assistant, so he can leave mine be. That's all I'm saying.......Now, if you'll please, run this up to the owlery for me, care of Mr. Saultz at Hogsmeade's Medicinal. We need to update our store supplies for the winter season. "  
  
Claira nodded her head and accepted the scroll in relief. Over the past few months, Madam Pomfrey had become somewhat of a mother figure to her. She would be completely devastated to think the woman thought ill of her actions.  
  
Carefully clicking the door closed behind her, Claira suddenly froze in the corridor, recanting the mediwitch's words. What if she did manage to persuade Dumbledore into hiring Severus a personal assistant? Her heart instantly twisted in knots at the sheer thought of another woman spending long heated nights with him in his study. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey wasn't that far from the truth in her evaluation of her conduct, even if she hadn't intended it to be so. How many times had she actually attended a session with secret hopes of physical pleasantries with the man? Far too often to be considered professional, that's for sure.  
  
Climbing the steps to the owlery, Claira withdrew the tiny scroll from her pocket and tugged at the door. Once inside, her eyes immediately settled upon another figure, who was standing beneath the center rafters with a gorgeous black falcon perched upon his arm. Her heart instantly began that familiar pitter patter, which only happened in the presence of one, Severus Snape. He was stroking the bird's head with his fingers, in a most delicate fashion. Shamefully enough, she felt slightly jealous and envious of its adorned attention. Reaching into his robes, Severus pulled out a trisket and handed it to the bird, then raised his brow at her in both surprise and acknowledgment. Claira approached them carefully, not wanting to startle the rather large animal as she moved in closer to get a better view of its perfectly sculpted feathers.  
  
" He's beautiful, is he yours? " Claira wondered with admiration and intrigue.  
  
" Indeed. " Severus responded, suddenly feeling proud that he possessed something in which she fancied. The falcon had belonged to him for quite some time actually. It was during his third year of teaching at Hogwarts, that the bird first came into his possession. As a young man, he took great pleasure in collecting his own potion ingredients. Mainly from the Dark Forest, but occasionally he would travel to foreign regions. It was on one of his longer summer expeditions that he stumbled across the falcon, critically injured. The bird was laying half slain next to a murky lake, attacked by a grindylow no doubt. Out of pure muse, he took pity on him and healed his wounds. The falcon never left his side after that, and thus remained loyal in his debt. Rarely, did he call upon him for message deliveries. He only did so when it was imperative or highly important, such as Ministry affairs.  
  
" Well? What's his name? " Claira chortled, after watching his prolonged expression of deep thought.  
  
" Falcor, " he answered finally, after a few awkward moments of silence.  
  
" Hmmm, that's original. " Claira teased with a wide grin.  
  
In return, she received his most sardonic sneer.  
  
After studying the falcon's demeanor for a while, she dared to touch it, unable to keep her hands to herself.  
  
" May I? " She asked, while raising her palm towards the bird for a pat.  
  
Severus nodded his head in approval, so she stepped forward and slowly lifted her fingers to its head. Just as she was about to make contact, the falcon ferociously snapped at her, nearly biting them off. She quickly withdrew her hand and held it close to her chest with a look of pure shock on her face.  
  
" He likes you. " Severus smirked, while setting the bird into flight with a swift swoop of his arm.  
  
" Are you insane? Did you not just see him try to peck me to death? He's pure evil. " Claira retorted playfully, though still slightly shaken from the attempted assault.  
  
" Just a little, but no more so then I......perhaps some of us simply choose to display our affections differently. "  
  
" Oh really? and how's that, Professor? " Claira taunted, with a glint of welcomed mischief in her eyes.  
  
" Curious, are we? "  
  
She nodded.  
  
" Very well then, come here...and I'll show you. "  
  
He made a slight head gesture, which beckoned her to him. Claira lifted her brow in amusement as she slowly stepped into his embrace. Capturing her chin in his hand, Severus lowered his mouth to hers but only just, before suddenly tilting her head sideways to expose a generous amount of vulnerable flesh. He instantly began lavishing her throat with hot moist kisses and light suckles, while being especially careful not to leave any visible markings that may rouse suspicion. Roughly entwining his fingers through her hair, he made a swift trail upwards, rounding her throat, tracing her jaw line, and finally ending his journey on a bare portion of skin just behind her earlobe. Exploring the tender area with his tongue, Severus began nipping at her flesh in an attempt to find her most sensitive spot. Which, was soon revealed to him by a sudden moan of anguished delight. A low growl sounded in his own throat as he placed a generous ration of it between his teeth and bit down, rather harshly.  
  
The sudden, unexpected attack, caused Claira to cry out in a foreign mixture of pain and pleasure. His bite was an arousing surprise and her knees immediately weakened under the intense pressure of his mouth. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. The sensational feeling of taboo had almost caused her to collapse against him in hopeless submission. Had he prompted to take her in that moment, she would have shamefully surrendered to his every desire.  
  
Severus quickly began to lap up the trickle of blood he had drawn as a result, all the while, reveling in the sweet warm taste it provided his tongue. He had to physically force himself to remove his lips from her skin as the abrasion behind her ear steadily increased in size. Capturing her mouth for a distractive kiss, he provocatively lavished her tongue with his own until he could no longer sustain the aching tightness in his pants.  
  
" Enjoyed that did you? " He breathed in her ear before placing a safe distance between them.  
  
" Mmm hmm....will you....do it again? " Claira whispered in exasperation, while staring at him with lust filled eyes. She then tilted her head in the opposite direction and brushed away her hair, prompting him to administer the same treatment.  
  
Severus smirked triumphantly at her assertiveness. Which, could only mean she was beginning to trust his intentions.....he ended that thought with a mental snort of laughter. He had Claira right where he wanted her, wrapped around his finger, to do with as he pleased. A deep rumble of victory escaped his throat as he grabbed her waist and roughly pressed her hips against his arousal, in showmanship, of his desire to continue as well. However, his temptation was greatly subdued by the gaud awful stench of bird defecation, which seemed to litter the entire vicinity. Where would he have her even if he wanted to proceed with his little seduction? Romance may very well be his weak point, but he could certainly come up with something a bit more creative than an owlery full of bird sh*t.  
  
" I will...later, " he muttered in promise against her lips.  
  
With that, Severus gave Claira a quick kiss then disappeared under the archway. He was already ten minutes late for his first class, and those incorrigible little prats were probably taking full advantage of his absence.  
  
Reaching the dungeons at lightening speed, he nearly broke the hinges off the door as he barraged through it wearing his most intimidating suit of superiority.  
  
Later that evening..................  
  
Claira awoke from her two-hour nap with a loud yawn. The coin toss, for grave yard shift, had landed in Madam Pomfrey's favor. As the loser, she was sentenced to spend the night couped up in the infirmary, ALONE. Placing a strong emphasis on the word, Madam Pomfrey had made it perfectly clear that Professor Snape was not to come within speaking distance of the hospital wing. Unless of course, he was in urgent need of medical assistance.....and even then it was iffy. Claira wondered if it had anything to do with the large welt behind her ear, which could frightfully be categorized as a hickey. It wasn't until she had been dismissed to her rooms, for a few hours of much needed rest, that she noticed the embarrassing branding.  
  
Rising from her bed, Claira glanced over at her hour glass, then darted towards the bathroom. She wanted to take a quick shower before the staff meeting. Dumbledore announced it during lunch. They still had to draw names from a hat to determine who will be chaperoning in Hogsmeade that coming weekend. With Madam Pomfrey's permission, she would be entering her name as well. There was loads of Christmas shopping to be done, and with any luck, she would be able to accomplish it all in one shot. Except for Professor Snape's present of course, his would have to be purchased in London.  
  
Standing in front of her mirror with a slight smirk on her lips, Claira took one last look at the 'love bite' on her neck then masked it with a concealer charm. Twenty minutes later, she found herself rummaging through her wardrobe for something comfortable to wear. Selecting a pair of faded jeans and white cotton sleeveless shirt, she dried her hair with the wave of her wand and swiftly dressed, purposely neglecting to wear a bra. Claira grinned devilishly to herself, she was aiming to tease. It was definitely not something she did very often, but Severus deserved a little payback for his actions in the owlery.  
  
Meanwhile, in the staffroom.........................  
  
Padfoot impatiently sat next to his friend's leg, while vigorously wagging his tail in anticipation of Claira's arrival.....the greasy bastard dungeon bat's as well. Several times, Remus Lupin had to nudge the dog's snout with his knee, just to calm him down. He was drawing far too much attention to himself.  
  
" Cool your heels Sirius, you look as though you're having a seizure. " Remus commented discreetly, from behind his half empty mug of coffee.  
  
A good distance away from the rest of the staff, Lupin stood with his elbow lounged upon the fireplace mantel, to appear indifferent, as he spoke to his furry companion. His eyes kept drifting towards the door then back to the love-struck puppy by his side. He was only agreeing to participate in this little 'scheme' of his, out of sheer pity.  
  
" You, are going to owe me big time for this, my friend. You do realize that? " Remus taunted, while watching the entrance carefully for his cue.  
  
A few moments later, a young woman passed under the archway. The lunatic dog at his heel began panting with his tongue hanging out, while his tail commenced in full swagger, much like a muggle helicopter blade. He snorted at his comrad's ridiculous behavior before giving the girl a thorough once over. She was petite, yet gifted with enticing curves that contoured her body quite nicely. Tight muggle jeans complimented her long slender legs and firm little ass, not bad. He had to wait a few moments for her to turn around to continue his evaluation....hmmm, pretty face, smells lovely, his senses were still heightened from his previous night's transformation....well groomed, savory lips, alluring eyes, all good. His mouth curved into a smile as he noticed the girl wasn't wearing a bra.  
  
" Never mind old chap, this one's on me. " Lupin spouted, as his gaze lingered on her rack. He had to admit, she was rather attractive. Not at all what he was expecting, given Black's track record in school.  
  
Remus smirked at the 'now growling' dog, teasingly, before turning his attention back to the girl. He needed to strategize his next approach. When she began conversing with Professor McGonagall, Padfoot nudged him in the leg, and he nodded down at him in agreement. Placing his mug on the mantel, he gave Sirius a quick wink that said, " Wish me luck, " then proceeded to casually stroll towards the girl with a strut of confidence.  
  
" I mean it Claira. We need to work on those social skills of yours. We can't have you hermitting yourself in the infirmary. This school prides itself on the family type atmosphere of its staff and students alike. Perhaps we can arrange a little get together wi-"  
  
" Good evening ladies," interrupted a gruff voice from behind them.  
  
Claira immediately whirled around to face the.....ruggedly handsome man, with a raised brow. His hair was light brown, yet streaked with silver highlights. Slightly worn robes dressed his masculine physique, complimenting his broad shoulders and mildly toned torso. He appeared a bit malnourished, but a few hardy meals would surely rectify that minor flaw. His eyes were dark grey and sculpted lines contoured his face to illustrate a weary visage, yet a very attractive one at that.  
  
" Well, Minerva, would you care to do the honors of introducing me to this enchanting young lady? " Remus asked with a debonaire smile.  
  
" Certainly," she responded, with a glare of suspicion.  
  
" Remus, this is Claira Bell, our new mediwitch. Claira, this is Remus Lupin. He once held the defense against the dark arts position here at Hogwarts. He is a very dear friend of ours and I have no doubt you will find a common bond with him as well. "  
  
" I truly hope so, " Remus winked, as he took Claira's hand in his, then raised it to his lips for a polite kiss.  
  
Severus, already fuming, entered the staffroom with billowing robes and a brazen mood to match. This ridiculous meeting held no meaningful purpose, other than to fractiously slow down progress in his laboratory. Glaring at his colleagues, he immediately began scouring the area for Claira. At least some of his wasted time could potentially be salvaged by her company. Rounding the center fold, his lip instantly curled into a sour sneer as he watched Lupin slobber all over the back of the girl's hand. Who the bloody hell invited that prick to attend? Clenching his jaw, he began weaving through the crowd towards them.  
  
A loud clatter sounded near the fire, causing Remus to quickly shift his gaze in Padfoot's direction. The dog was repeatedly pointing his snout due north and he looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of Professor Snape. Whom, was currently slithering his way over with narrowed eyes and a chiseled scowl of disdain on his face. He did NOT look happy, then again, when did he ever?  
  
" So, what brings you here tonight? " Claira asked, oblivious to the events that were unfolding around her.  
  
" Albus invited me, as he occasionally does. Unfortunately, I will not be staying long enough for us to properly acquaint ourselves, as I would have liked. "  
  
Remus kept a close eye on Snape as he spoke, calculating the precise moment in which he was to begin 'pouring the syrup on his waffle of charm'. He had specific instructions, and with Severus nearly in position, he was ready to proceed with Black's insidious plan.  
  
" So, tell me, Claira, who will be the lucky man escorting you to the Yule Ball this Christmas? "  
  
Severus silently intruded upon their conversation, while shooting serrated edge daggers at Lupin.  
  
" Well, there isn't one actually," she chuckled, while suddenly smiling at the new found presence of the man beside her.  
  
" I find that VERY hard to believe, my dear. How is it, a beautiful young woman, such as yourself, has not partnered yet? Certainly you have had offers? " Remus boldly stated, while passing an accusing glance at Professor Snape.  
  
Severus's lip twitched in anger, as he quickly caught onto Lupin's little game. Minerva, feeling put out, left to gossip with Madam Pomfrey.  
  
" Not exactly. " Claira admitted, while frowning at the memory of her embarrassing attempt at asking Severus.  
  
" You know....Albus granted me a special invitation to attend the dance, only moments before you walked in. Call it fate, but it just so happens that I am in search of a partner as well. This may be a long shot on my part, but I would be most honored, Claira, if you considered me as a potential date. What better way to familiarize ourselves with each other? "  
  
Severus immediately cut in.  
  
" Perhaps it would be prudent, Remus, if you first checked your calender before making irresponsible, not to mention, extremely dangerous engagements with the girl. "  
  
" I am well ahead of you, Severus. I can assure you, I won't be transforming into a hideous bloodthirsty monster for at least another week or two 'following' the Ball. " Remus proclaimed, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
Claira chuckled, thinking it was a joke.  
  
" What do you say, love? Do I hold your promise? " Lupin asked her, with a persuasive smile.  
  
The pressure in Professor Snape's chest grew profoundly as he watched Claira actually contemplate the absurd idea. How dare she consider accepting another man's proposal....after all 'he' has had to work for. He furrowed his brows at her irritably as she glanced over at him, then Teresa, who was chatting on the opposite side of the room. He followed her gaze as it dropped to the shinny green pendant clipped to her breast. Her stare instantly hit the floor, then traveled back up to Lupin. He could see it in her eyes, she was about to agree.....The hell she was!  
  
Keep your mouth shut, and everyone will think you're a fool. Open it, and you prove it. Well, tonight, his tongue would certainly be making an ass out of himself.  
  
" Sod off, Remus. Miss Bell has no desire to spend the evening, burdened, by your boorish company. "  
  
" Pardon me, Severus, but I do believe THAT is for Claira to decide. Assuming of course, she is allowed to speak for herself. " Remus retorted, with a slightly agitated voice.  
  
Claira's eyes flashed fury at Professor Snape's audacity. He already had a date, need he be reminded? And it certainly wasn't her! How dare he try and ruin her only chance of finding a partner. She seriously doubted anyone else had plans of asking her, especially since most of the staff had already merged together. If he didn't want her attending the dance with another man, he should have asked her himself!  
  
" Remus, I would be delighted to. " Claira agreed with a soft smile, while ignoring Severus's sudden shift of discomfort.  
  
" Splendid! I do believe we are to exchange pins now? " Remus responded with an air of triumph. He shot Severus a smug grin before reaching into his vest pocket.  
  
" Yes, except, I didn't bring mine. I wasn't really expecting to receive an invitation tonight, " Claira remarked, disappointed.  
  
Severus snorted in delight at her foley. No pendant, no commitment. No commitment, meant he would have an opportunity to differ her decision.  
  
" No problem, Darling. I swiped a second one, just in case, " Lupin beamed, while handing her the extra pin.  
  
Bastard! This 'sudden' chance of meeting had obviously been preconceived.  
  
" Shall we? " Remus implied with a smirk.  
  
He then stepped forward and placed his hands on Claira's hips, fully prepared to seal the deal. She blushed slightly at his forwardness, but raised her lips to his cheek none the less. His next move was a dirty trick indeed, but the payoff would certainly be well worth the character demerit. With one swift motion, Remus turned his head and stole her kiss with his thieving lips. He kept his tongue to himself, while his mouth disguised the brief encounter as a sensual display of intimacy. He was merely acting upon the desperate orders of Sirius. Whom, was head over heels for the girl and wholly convinced that he had a chance with her. That is, if his vindictive competitor was somehow detoured away from her long enough. This was strictly business, a necessary action from which he took no personal pleasure in......well, perhaps he WAS enjoying it, a little.  
  
A sudden streak of lightening flashed before Severus's eyes, temporarily blinding him in a cloud of scarlet acerbity. " Wrapped around your finger, is she? " Mocked a tawdry voice in his head. Deep within the pit of his chest, a raging storm began to brew. It was a most unfamiliar feeling of asperity. One that could not easily be subdued by grinding his teeth or muttering silent curses to himself.  
  
Claira immediately shied away from Lupin, while her face flushed over in a tidal wave of embarrassment. She certainly had not intended to kiss the man in such a way. Regardless of his rank among the staff, he was still a stranger to her. Secretly however, she was glad it happened. It provided her the perfect opportunity to witness Professor Snape's reaction to another man's adoration. Despite his words of encouragement last night, she still was not completely convinced that his intentions were true. It would take more than physical affections to persuade her otherwise, and standing before her now, with THAT particular expression on his face, things were certainly looking promising.  
  
Grinning devilishly, Remus dared a glance at Severus, who was standing with his hands tightly clenched into white knuckled fists. His chest was rising and falling dangerously, and his nostrils were flaring like an enraged bull poised to charge. It was a most intimidating stance, one that certainly wiped the smirk off his face. That man was definitely pissed.....mission accomplished. As a precaution, Lupin took a few steps backwards, to avoid a possible bloody nose. Which, judging by the look of contempt in Professor Snape's eyes, was about to be administered. He flinched slightly as Severus made a sudden body shift. However, it was only to turn on his heel and stalk towards Dumbledore with an angry stride.  
  
Sighing in relief, Remus watched the man jump into an intense, almost heated looking conversation with the Headmaster. Trying to beguile his decision in allowing a werewolf to attend the school dance, no doubt. Some people never change. Severus was still a whinny little brat, running to Dumbledore when things didn't go his way. Same as he had many years before, always following he and his trio of friends around, looking for an excuse to get them into trouble. Remus snorted at the memory. Severus was such a scrawny twig back then. Despite his vast knowledge of curses, he was easily cast aside as a nuisance. Of course, none of them would dare provoke him whilst they were alone. The little git knew more dark magic than the defense against the dark arts teacher, and had proven it upon many occasions. He hadn't fully grown into his boots until their sixth year, which made him an EXTREMELY dangerous man by his seventh. The arrogant prat used his new form of strength to its full advantage, and was even pompous enough to begin instigating squabbles. Needless to say, they immediately ceased their taunting. Well, except for that one minor incident, but that was strictly Black's idea, not his own. He was quite certain Sirius had never told his godson Harry the entire story of how Snape had given him a right thrashing afterwards. It took him a whole week in the infirmary to recover. The most embarrassing part was, Severus hadn't even used his wand. Perhaps it wasn't as degrading, as it was lucky.  
  
Almost completely forgotten, was Claira, who he left standing alone while he privately rehashed history. Turning back around, Remus gave her an apologetic wink then initiated a conversation over the events that had transpired since her first arrival at Hogwarts. Several chuckles, two glowing pendants, and a promise to owl each other later, he left her to mingle about, while he rejoined Padfoot by the fire.  
  
The dog was practically trembling with anticipation, so he gave him a discreet thumbs up before leaning against the mantel. Exactly how the old boy planned on winning the girl's heart, disguised as a canine and all, was far beyond his means of comprehension. Not that he blamed him for wanting to try, she was rather charming, in a sweet unobtrusive sort of way. Almost too shy for his fancy though, he preferred bustier blondes with half-witted minds and promiscuous attitudes. They were far more accommodating to his roguish lifestyle. Remus's gaze instantly drifted towards Professor Silverstone, whom caught his eye and winked at him suggestively. He raised his brow back at her flirtatiously, then turned the other way. What a shame he already 'had' her, last year, at the Halloween party. Front page of the werewolf compendium, NEVER bed the same woman twice. Prolonged exposure to the same female could result in an attachment of feelings. Romantic relationships were much too risky to chance, he learned that lesson the hard way........It was by far, the most severe punishment out of all that accompanied his curse. Of course, he has learned to live without love, but merlin, sometimes, on those cold dark winter nights......  
  
Casting Dumbledore a rather nasty scowl of defeat, Severus spun around on his heel and stormed off towards one of the vacant couches. Claira watched him from across the room with apprehension, wondering if she should chance the cushion next to his. A triumphant smirk played at her lips. His outlandish behavior had obviously been motivated by some underlying emotion. Is it possible that he may hold feelings for her that extended beyond physical revere? Why else would he act so disturbed by a simple kiss? The thought left a warm tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach. In that same instant, Professor Snape's eyes met and locked onto hers. A few moments of intense staring commenced before he shot her a catty sneer, then looked away......Or perhaps he was simply suffering from a faltered ego.  
  
The room suddenly fell silent as Dumbledore raised his hands to begin the meeting. Everyone immediately scurried off to their desired seats. Including Claira, who just barely beat Teresa in a mad dash to claim the spot next to Severus. Beside her sat Argus Filch, the caretaker, and his ruby-eyed cat Mrs. Norris. She was staring at her from his lap with upheaved fur and twitching whiskers. If Claira didn't know any better, she'd say that animal wasn't particularly fond of her. Remus soon strolled over to occupy the armchair directly across the way, and with the staff finally settled, Dumbledore proceeded with his speech.  
  
Clipped boldly to Claira's shirt strap, was Lupin's glowing green pendant. Which, undauntedly kept flashing in the corner of Professor Snape's eye like an annoying fly that needed swatting. It took every ounce of strength he had not to snatch it from her clothing and stomp it into a million pieces with the heel of his boot. Her capricious actions never ceased to bewilder him. Seducing Claira, was proving to be one of the most stimulating and enthralling experiences he has yet to challenge. He was the potion master and she, his brew. Never before has a draught exceeded his limitations. Her little ripple with Remus, only signified the need to adjust the heat beneath her cauldron.  
  
Casually sliding his arm along the back rest of the couch, Severus slowly raised his hand to Claira's soft tendrils of hair and discreetly navigated his fingers through to the tender portion of skin just behind her earlobe. He heard her release a long whispful breath as he lightly traced the outline of a heart over the area he had bit down on earlier that morning. Smirking wickedly at her reaction to his silly whim, Severus allowed his fingers to glide down the nape of her neck with playful swirls and gentle caresses.....before abruptly retracting his hand. Madam Pomfrey was glaring at him from across the way, with scolding eyes and a curled lip of disapproval. Damn that woman! Poppy had been keeping a close watch on him ever since the infirmary incident, in which she had stumbled upon them in bed together. It has become somewhat customary for her to pull him aside in the hallways or staffroom, just to nag him about his conduct with Claira. Same as she had during lunch that day. The witch was practically breathing down his neck with accusations of pernicious behavior, pertaining to the large abrasion behind Claira's ear that had not been there prior to her owlery expedition. Of course he denied holding any responsibility for the marking and brushed her off with a warning sneer. As if his private activities with the girl were any of her business anyway. Casting Madam Pomfrey a nasty scowl, he turned his attention to Dumbledore, who was babbling on about new ideas for Christmas decorations. Floating mistletoe chasers...where?  
  
So engulfed in the sensation of Professor Snape tracing romantic patterns on her skin, Claira hardly noticed the dangerous growls coming from the cushion next to her. It wasn't until Mrs. Norris let out a great hiss of venom that she snapped back to reality and glanced over at the possessed demon cat. Filch, who happened to smell particularly foul that night, didn't seem to notice the feline's obnoxious behavior. However, a few of the other staff members started glancing her way with curiosity. Scooting over, Claira began leaning towards Severus, for fear of being attacked. What was it with her and animals? They all seemed to have some sort vendetta against her!  
  
Severus watched the events unfold with fathomed amusement. Claira, was discreetly attempting to evade the cat's wrath as it slowly advanced on her, which was steadily driving her straight into the crook of his arm. His eyes dropped down to her body as she did so, and his brow immediately raised in perverse delight. Stimulated by the induction of fear, Claira's nipples had become frightfully erected. The view was greatly enhanced by her apparent neglection to wear a bra. Memories, of their erotic encounter the night before, began to stir in his head....shamefully enough, her breasts weren't the only 'stiff' components on the couch that evening. Quickly adjusting his position, Severus glanced up...only to meet Lupin's gaze. He sneered threateningly at his quirked smile of recrimination, before precociously turning his attention back to Claira's cleavage.  
  
" ARGUS! Do control that rechid beast of yours, before Miss Bell ends up trembling in my lap. "  
  
His words provoked several Professors into laughing aloud at the humorous situation. His quick-witted plan was genius. The noisy distraction gifted him the perfect opportunity to lean over and whisper a seductive proposal into Claira's ear.  
  
" Not that I would object, mind you. I'd just rather it happen within a room baring fewer restrictions, so that I may have the means of doing something 'constructive' about it. Perhaps later....in my private quarters? "  
  
Claira blushed fire under his provocative suggestion, while her mouth curved into a playful smile. She first had thought it a teasing joke, but his impending stare told her otherwise.  
  
" Sorry to disappoint you Professor, but my responsibilities lay within the infirmary tonight....I lost the coin toss for night watch. "  
  
" No matter, I'll simply stop by- " he began, before Claira immediately cut him off.  
  
" Oh no you won't! I'm already on thin ice with Madam Pomfrey over the last time you 'stopped by'. If she found out, it would be my head for sure. "  
  
" Fine, " Severus snarled, in frustration.  
  
Her perky breasts were still taunting his hungry eyes....and mouth. With the memory still fresh and vivid in his mind, he could almost taste her salty sweet nipples on his tongue....feel them, hard and swollen beneath his fingers.... " Down boy! You have plenty of work to occupy your time with tonight. Remember? Conference, research papers, brewing cauldron in your laboratory....how quickly we forget. Quit acting like an undersexed fool, and start focusing your attention on the 'existing' tasks at hand, " reprimanded his inner voice of reason. For once, he actually agreed.  
  
" Now, if you will ALL please look this way....it is time to draw forth the names of our two lucky Professors who will be chaperoning in Hogsmeade this glorious winter weekend, " Dumbledore announced, while holding up an old tattered wizard's hat.  
  
No matter how attractive the Headmaster tried to dress up the trip, most of the staff still grumbled and slouched down into their seats. Claira, secretly crossed her fingers and stared at Dumbledore's hand with hopeful eyes. She watched in anticipation as he slowly reached inside the hat and withdrew two crumbled pieces of parchment. As he unraveled the first one, several teachers held their breaths.  
  
" Ah, ROLANDA....you are the first to win the fates' favor this evening. "  
  
Madam Hooch grimaced as her colleagues smirked at her misfortune.  
  
" And the second is......TERESA! "  
  
The room suddenly filled with applause as the losers rejoiced over their failure to be selected.  
  
Claira immediately frowned. Why was it, Professor Silverstone kept winning everything she desired for herself?  
  
When the meeting finally came to a close, everyone rose from their chairs and shuffled towards the exit. Remus, held Claira behind for a final farewell, while Severus lingered under the archway to monitor the 'moon barker's' perfidious behavior. After a few minutes of what appeared to be light conversation, Lupin leaned forward and tenderly kissed her on the cheek. After an absurd amount of time passed, the deviant finally broke away, only to wink at her flirtatiously. Severus's blood began to boil as he watched Claira blush a strawberry shade of red. How foolish was he to think she only reacted that way to his touch? Piercing his lips, Severus stormed out of the staffroom with his temper flaring far beyond any means of physical or mental restraint.  
  
With his arms folded menacingly, Professor Snape waited outside in the corridor for Claira to immerge. Just as he was about to lose patience, she suddenly appeared. Approaching her with the stealth of a cobra, he discreetly grabbed her arm and ushered her towards one of the vacant classroom. When he was certain no one was looking, he abruptly pulled her inside and snapped the door shut. It took all the control he could muster not to slam it closed under the force of his anger.  
  
Claira found herself cloaked in a pit of darkness. Her eyes tore around the room, but all she could see was a void of black emptiness. Behind her, she heard Severus mutter a locking spell, followed closely by a silencing charm.....then there was nothing but silence. Claira's breathing became rigid and unsteady as she felt his robes brisk the front of her legs, then the back of them. She could feel his presence circling around her, like a predator scanning its prey for the weakest point in which to attack.....never before had she felt so vulnerable, so helpless.  
  
" Severus..." Claira whispered, with a twinge of panic in her voice.  
  
A few moments passed, before a deep rumble sounded in her ear.  
  
" Severus, is it now? Why the sudden change of address? "  
  
As he spoke, she felt his hands smooth over her breasts, down her waist, around her hips, under her shirt, then back up to her cleavage. She released a sudden gasp of pleasure as his thumbs grazed her hardened nipples.  
  
" I expect a prompt answer when I ask you a question, Miss Bell. "  
  
In the next instant, Claira felt him roughly tug her shirt up so that her breasts were fully exposed. Another gasp escaped her lips as he began to swirl his tongue in circles around her nipple, taunting and teasing it with light suckles and sudden bites. He administered the same treatment to the other, causing a tingling heat to course through her veins.  
  
Without warning, he forcefully pushed her backwards until she hit solid wall. His body was anything but gentle as he pressed into her with his chest, hips.....arousal. Rough hands captured her wrists, and they too were pinned against the stone surface.  
  
" Answer me, you silly girl. "  
  
His voice was harsh and demanding.  
  
" I...I...don't know. I am, was...frightened, " Claira breathed out, in a barely audible whisper.  
  
In one swift motion, Severus covered her mouth with his for a crushing, almost punishing kiss. His tongue lashed out at hers while the pressure of his teeth bruised her lips. His hands painfully squeezed her wrists, while his body grinded hers into the wall. When he finally broke off, she was left gasping for air.  
  
" Frightened? Is this not what you wanted? What you asked for this morning? Or perhaps the affections of a certain silver haired auslander has willed you a change of heart. "  
  
" I don't know what you're talking about, " Claira managed to breathe out, amongst the mixture of desire and confusion spinning in her head.  
  
" I think you know perfectly well what I'm talking about, " Severus snarled.  
  
Moments later, he released his hold on her and stepped away. Her eyes searched desperately through the darkness, but could see nothing. Only the sound of heavy breathing told Claira he was still beside her. Watching? Was it possible that he could see? Coarse hands suddenly grabbed her once again, this time spinning her around to face the wall. She quickly leaned her elbows upon it for support as he cupped her breasts and roughly pressed his erection against her from behind. The position was awfully arousing, and she instantly arched her back towards him for closer access.  
  
Snaking his fingers through her hair, Severus tugged Claira's head backwards and began ravishing her throat with his mouth. He wanted to make her quiver, make her beg for sweet release, make her want him over any other man....particularly that bastard Remus. How dare she react to the prat's touch after accepting HIS hand of promise last night.  
  
" Tell me, Claira, do you find him attractive? "  
  
" What?......Who? "  
  
Claira's mind was too busy swirling in a whirlwind of desire to comprehend the question.  
  
" Don't play stupid with me. You know damn well whom and what I mean, " Severus snapped.  
  
" Remus? I...I..suppose he's good looking, " Claira whispered, too afraid to lie.  
  
Swiftly raking his tongue over her skin, Severus immediately found the tender spot behind her ear and bit down. He felt her tremble slightly in his arms...but it wasn't to his satisfaction. So he ran his teeth down to the nape of her neck and performed the same torturous procedure. It earned him a loud anguished cry of delight, followed by a violent shiver of lust. He smiled in triumph as he lapped up a trickle of blood.  
  
" More so than I? "  
  
Before Claira could answer, he spun her back around to face him. He wanted to witness her facial expressions, so that he may determine the truthfulness of her response.  
  
" No, " she breathed out in a shaky voice.  
  
Her eyes were steady and true.....which was all he needed to know.  
  
With a flare of arrogance, he gripped her waist and led her to one of the tables. Placing her on top of it, he slid his hips between her legs and captured her mouth for a most passionate kiss. Claira instantly wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the exchange with an urgent force. Growling in delight, Severus pressed into her further. He wanted to make certain she was good and hot, before he left her alone. It was to be her punishment, for causing him to feel.......whatever it was he felt inside.  
  
" I do not approve of your pairing with Lupin, Claira. He is a right bastard, but more importantly....he's a bloody werewolf. I'm quite certain THAT little tid bit was never explained to you....not so charming NOW is he? " Severus hissed after abruptly ended their kiss.  
  
A sudden crack of lightening flashed outside, causing a bright streak of light to shine through one of the many hidden windows within the classroom. It lasted just long enough for Claira to observe a most shocking expression on Professor Snape's face. His features were painted in deep emotion, and his eyes revealed secret thoughts that she was certain he did not intend for her to see. Her own eyes widened as she suddenly realized the reasoning behind his ludicrous behavior.....he was jealous! As if reading her mind, Severus immediately withdrew his body from hers and retreated backwards into the concealing blanket of darkness. She heard him counter his locking charm in a faltered voice, before pushing through the exit with the full weight of his shoulder. The door violently swung open with a loud bang, and within seconds he was gone. Claira was left alone, with a fluttering heart and victorious smirk upon her lips.  
  
arwen2002: I am glad you recognized Claira's subtle changes. Yes she is still very naive, but she is also STILL a virgin. She really has no experience with these types of feelings and exchanges. Who better, or shall I say, whom 'worse' to teach her the ways than Snape? My portrayal of Severus is greatly based on the character Professor Henry Higgins, played by Rex Harrison in the theatrical movie "My Fair Lady." I think their similarities are uncanny. Your comment about how Snape has allowed himself a little girlfriend even though he doesn't treat her much better than anyone else, brings me to recall the dialog from the movie I used to create this theory. Claira can easily be Eliza and Snape, Higgins:  
  
Professor Higgins: "...If you come back, you will be treated as you have always been treated. I can't change my manners and I don't intend to. MY MANNERS are the same as Colonel Pickering's!"  
  
Eliza: " That's not true. He treats a flower girl as if she were a duchess. " Higgins: " Well I treat a duchess as if she was a flower girl. "  
  
Eliza: " Oh I see, the same for everybody. "  
  
Higgins: " Yes so. You see, the great secret Eliza, is not the question of good manners or bad manners or any particular sort of manner, but having the same manner for all human souls. The question is not whether I treat you rudely, but whether you have ever heard me treat anyone else better. "  
  
I love that line! I think Snape uses the same justification for his actions.  
  
SnapeGirl5: * looks around cautiously, slips new chapter in the mail slot, then takes off running before reader has a chance to open the door and scold her for taking too long to deliver*  
  
Elyce: Yeah, I tried to avoid digging in their heads in the earlier chapters to avoid prolonged writing. But as their relationship became more intricate and complicated, I had no choice. Snape does tend to take advantage of Claira under vulnerable situations doesn't he? What can I say, he's a pervert...but aren't all men to some extent? Lol.  
  
Sanquine: If you could only see my confused expression while reading your review over and over again, trying to make sense of it! LOL. I think you liked it so...thanks?  
  
Elcie: You summed up my whole story and everything I tried to do with it perfectly. Snape IS a manipulator and constantly tries to deny and justify his feelings for her. In doing so, he ends up contradicting himself to no end. Occasionally he will slip up and speak or act before his mind can stop him, hence we get intimate moments and romantic words, only to have them counteracted by some devious action. He takes a whole lot of patience and strength to write. I can see why most writers stay away from this aspect of his personality. He illustration is absolutely EXHAUSTING!  
  
SeverusSnape: Brilliant? Okay I'll take that and gloat! I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter. It was a tricky one to write.  
  
XxDarkGoddessxX: Glad I could help!  
  
jillybean: Thanks for taking the time to review. It's nice to know I have readers out there who appreciate my story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.  
  
SevyHero: Trust me, I am writing as fast as I can. I don't want to rush and foil the story. Keep reading and reviewing!  
  
mavidian: You must have a lot of patience to read my story from the beginning to this far along! Believe me. It makes my day to hear you actually took the time to do so.  
  
Red Writing Hood: Thanks. I'm still waiting for your new posting. * taps foot and wonders why you are reading this instead of writing*  
  
Hungarian Horntail: Woo Hoo! I hope this chapter possesses the same quality. 


	25. Restrictions

  
  
Chapter: 25

  
  


**Restrictions**

  
  
The Order meeting that night, once again, did not fair well. There was a great deal of angst and frustration amongst its members, as they discussed the most recent deatheater attacks on muggle establishments. Without Severus as a key spy, Voldemort's plans were carrying on flawlessly; the lack of intelligent resources directly resulted in a limited amount of interruption and resistance by the opposing force. Catastrophic, was a plausible description of the swelled tension in the room. And Professor Snape back lashing nearly every word Remus uttered, certainly didn't help matters any. Dumbledore, growing exceptionally weary these days, ended the meeting with his own share of indignation; conflict and turmoil must first be demolished within their ranks, before further progress outside of it could be made.

  
  
**Wednesday morning....**

  
  
Severus awoke with a sudden startle. Through hazy, half-opened eyelids, he attempted to identify his surroundings by gazing through a clouded blur of stupor. When his sight finally focused, he found himself sitting behind his desk. In front of him, lie a smudged piece of parchment, a spread of opened books, and a severely ruffled quill in his hand. Glancing over at his hourglass, he grumbled slurs and then rose from his chair. Class would begin in less than an hour, and his work had only progressed to half a page of smeared rubbish; he also had a strange suspicion that the side of his face was tarnished with ink. 

Shredding his dressings, he quickly bathed himself clean, before stepping into an almost identical attire of that which he had just removed. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he tugged on his boots, while releasing a long, burdened sigh of conception. If he were to complete his potion research for the conference, his testing sessions with Claira would have to be suspended; he had no time to himself otherwise. She was a distraction, not an intolerable one, but certainly a mind diversion less needed. 

Combing his fingers through his damp, disheveled hair, Severus quickly shaved, while glaring at his image in the bathroom mirror. He looked like hell. Had Claira not told him just last night that he was more attractive than Lupin?

_He knew different. _

Glancing down at a small, black comb wedged between the sink and cabinet, Severus hotly snatched it up and raked it through the thick heap of tangles upon his head. Spitting curses, he retrieved his razor, and meticulously touched up his previous work; all before straightening his collar, adjusting his cuffs, and tightening the belt buckle on his trousers.

  
  


========@=======@=======@=======@=======@========

  
  
Throughout the early morning and partial afternoon, Claira's thoughts dwelled on Severus' words. He had told her Remus Lupin was a werewolf, but how could that be? He seemed so polite, so kind, so... _normal_. True, she had never actually encountered one before, only read about them in stories and compressed chapters from her schoolbook studies. His demeanor did not match that of any written text she could recall, and the articles in the _Daily Prophet_ certainly bore no characteristic resemblance to the way he carried himself. 

During lunch, Claira picked at her plate, and stared blankly around the Great Hall through her glazed doughnut hole. In her pocket, lie a glowing green pendant, which marked an agreement between Remus and herself. Shamefully enough, she was finding it extremely difficult to overlook her fears and reservations toward him. Society had taught her to be frightened of werewolves; they were dangerous beasts that stalked the night for human prey to feast upon. And yet, thinking of Lupin, she couldn't help but snort at the mere thought of it. He was actually quite charming. Was he not gentle with the way he kissed her hand, cheek, and lips? Her flesh was still intact. Certainly this meant that he was not a hideous monster. 

After several long minutes of deliberation, Claira rose from the table and found herself weaving a path through the castle to Dumbledore's office; if anyone could answer her questions, surely he could. Until now, she hadn't felt the need to confide in him; he always seemed so busy, and she didn't want to bother him with trivial matters, although he had always instructed her to do so. 

Speaking the password, she stepped onto the spiraling staircase leading to his study door, hoping he had time for a chat. Holding her breath, Claira lightly tapped on it and waited for a response. Within seconds, the archway opened up, and suddenly all her nervousness drifted away. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk with a waving hand of welcome. The warm inviting smile upon his face, gave her the instant impression that he was expecting her arrival, but how?

  
  
**Half an hour later....**

  
  
Claira emerged from Dumbledore's office wearing a wide grin of satisfaction. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew Lupin's Yule Ball pin and proudly clipped it to her breast.

Upon her return to the infirmary, she was greeted by a large, wooden crate of medical supplies, a room full of empty beds, and an excited looking mediwitch. She mentally noted how Madam Pomfrey seemed to always act this way about new hospital equipment. Almost immediately, Claira was put to work removing the content's shrinking charms, while her partner took the pleasure of testing their functionality. 

As they neared the bottom of the crate, Claira withdrew the remaining boxes of _Quick Heal Bandages_, and placed them on the bed beside her. She then shrunk the wooden container and banished it to the trash bin, using a single flick from her wand. Humming pleasantly, Madam Pomfrey scooped up the boxes and proceeded to carry them to the storage room when....

**BANG!**

The hospital door almost flew off its hinges under the force of Professor Snape's arm. He was wearing a disgusted sneer upon his lips, as he pushed a terrified looking student over the threshold. The familiar boy's face was pale with fright, but more impressing, were the dissolved remnants of his school robes, which revealed large, splatter-like burn marks. Severus' vest had its own share of damage, leading Claira to believe there must have been some type of explosion. 

"Again, Mr. Longbottom? No need to guess what happened this time. Come along then, let's get you patched up," Madam Pomfrey huffed, while levitating the scattered bandages she had dropped on the floor. Glancing up at Severus, Poppy noticed his garments weren't nearly as scorched; certainly he had a potion that could have easily replenished any of the light abrasions that lie underneath. 

Neville's quivering lip instantly curved into a bashful smile, as he started off towards Claira; he had always thought her to be quite fair and beautiful. However, his journey was abruptly halted by a strong, forceful hand, which snatched the collar of his robes and jerked him in the opposite direction. He stumbled to catch his footing as Professor Snape pushed him at Madam Pomfrey, while he himself sought Claira's aid. _Bastard_.

Severus ignored the older mediwitch's glares of disapproval, as he took the liberty of choosing his own bed to sit upon. Claira immediately tended to him, wearing a slight grin and reddened cheeks; the girl had a horrible habit of blushing whilst in his presence. He smirked haughtily at that thought, but his grin soon fell into a scowl as his eyes dropped to the shinny green pendant fastened to her breast._ So, she was going to keep her commitment to Remus after all?_ Fine. Its not as if he gave a damn anyway.... as long as the prick keeps his hands, lips, and any other portion of his body that he deemed 'valuable' to himself. 

Removing his cloak, Severus allowed Claira to examine the burn wounds on his chest. As she ran her fingertips across his skin, he winced with a false reaction of pain; the injury was really quite minor, but he needed to speak with her about their testing sessions, and this would present the perfect opportunity. 

After a few moments of evaluation, Claira left to retrieve the proper antidote. In the farthest corner of the medicine room, lie a small, round hole filled with blue flames. Taking a pinch of powder from a porcelain dish that rested upon a nearby shelf, she quickly tossed it into the crevice and summoned a house elf to bring Professor Snape a clean shirt to wear. She then grabbed a small jar of medicated lotion out of one of the cabinets and made her way back to his bed. 

Carefully setting her jar on the nightstand, Claira stepped between Severus' legs and then proceeded to unclasp his shirt. Her palms willingly brushed across his warm skin, as she parted the fabric and slowly slipped it over his shoulders. A strange tingling sensation tickled her insides as she did so. There was something incredibly sexy about his pale skin, which attractively contrasted the mass of black hair that sprawled across his well-built stock. Fumbling with the lid, Claira clumsily twisted the jar open, before dipping her fingers inside. Scooping up a generous amount of white cream, she moved her hands to his chest and began smoothing the remedy over the infected area.

Soon, Claira found herself perversely tracing the vast muscles that lie beneath Professor Snape's soft, raven curls. Prurient were her fingers, as they entangled and wove through his velvet mane to explore a most masculine torso. Her hands were forcefully driven by a strong female curiosity; it was a subconscious act that she shamefully held no control over. Between her legs, a heated excitement began to fester. Her own actions were the cause, and Claira was rightfully appalled by her behavior.

Severus, however, was not. His lips curved into a chaff smirk as he allowed her to 'feel him up', as they say. He mentally noted how her aggression towards him was progressing quite nicely. Of course, he would rather Claira assert herself unrepressed, particularly in more pivotal areas; although he will gladly settle for her present indulgence. Like a fine wine, patience over time will surely merit a sweet reward.

His eyes were burning holes in her flesh, Claira could feel it, but didn't dare meet his gaze; far too many times had she lost herself within his dark seduction. And with Madam Pomfrey glaring at them suspiciously from across the way, there was no hope of physical reprieve if she were to fall victim under.... his.... hypnotic.... stare.... Their eyes suddenly locked in a fierce battle between urge and suppression. 

Abruptly, he stood. 

Claira released a small gasp of surprise as he towered over her, pressing his body firmly against her own. However, it was only briefly, as he reached above her to draw the curtains closed around them. 

"I thought you might like some privacy, my dear. Do continue, " Severus hummed provocatively in her ear, before sitting back down. 

Claira blushed fire beneath his words, as she moved her hands back to his chest. The remedy was working rather quickly, and his wounds were almost healed. She suddenly frowned to herself. _Her excuse to touch him was expiring_. In a desperate attempt to savor the moment, Claira boldly brushed her thumb across one of his hardened nipples. And as she did, Severus gave a sudden body jolt, which caused her to immediately retract her hands in shame. What in the name of Merlin was she thinking? Gods, she was taking advantage of him!

"I need to speak with you, Claira, about our testing sessions," he murmured softly in distraction. "Regrettably, they must be suspended until further notice." 

He observed her body shift uncomfortably as he spoke. _Perhaps he should have waited a few extra moments before springing it upon her._

" I.... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, " Claira stuttered, feeling a sudden panic of guilt. Her eyes quickly fell to the floor in embarrassment, realizing that it was her fault.

"Don't be silly, girl. You did nothing wrong." 

Retrieving his cloak, Severus withdrew the scroll he had received from the Ministry, and quietly handed it to her. Pulling on a clean shirt, he watched proudly as her eyes widened in admiration. When she finally finished the read, she looked up at him and smiled in astonishment.

"You will receive the _Order of Merlin_ for sure!" 

"Not quite, but perhaps. That is, if everything fairs well at the conference. So you see, I must use this time wisely, and adequately prepare myself," Severus boasted loftily, all the while relishing in the esteemed expression on her face.

"I understand, Professor," she whispered in revere, and partial disappointment. "Congratulations by the way, you have definitely earned it."

Handing back the scroll, she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Severus quickly stuffed the rolled parchment into his robes, before turning back to her with a raised brow and mocking grin.

"And what, pray tell, was that for?" He chortled, teasingly.

"It was for luck," Claira answered bashfully.

"Then I must say, Miss Bell, I'm rather disappointed in your lack of enthusiasm. This is, after all, a highly important colloquy that I will be attending. Certainly you can find it within yourself to bid me a bit more luck than that." As he spoke, he allowed his fingers to trace the enticing contours of her mouth. "Let's try it again, shall we?" 

Strawberry cheeked, Claira stepped into him once more, and gently pressed her lips to his. Severus immediately grabbed her hips and pulled her tightly against him, demonstrating how forceful he liked to be kissed. Tugging on her clothing, he slowly slipped his hands beneath her blouse and began stroking the soft, warm curves of her back. His initial intention was to instill confidence in Claira's aggression towards him--which apparently worked, for she suddenly strengthened the kiss with a fierce passion, successfully raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Growling in approval, he matched her fury with his tongue, suddenly feeling exceptionally grieved by the idea that they would not be alone together for the next three weeks, possibly longer. 

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his lips to her ear, and spoke in a low, suggestive tone.

"Mmmm, much better. This continuous modesty of yours, really is no longer necessary. I believe we have already established a mutual attraction between each other. Wouldn't you agree?" 

Claira nodded her head, her eyes heavily glossed over in a tidal wave of lust.

"That being said. I think you will find that there is not a single perverse thought swimming in that pretty little head of yours right now, that I haven't already considered myself; none of which, I would hesitate to act upon if given the opportunity." His lips purposely brushed across her ear as he spoke, breathing hot, moist air against her skin. "You may render these words as a personal invitation, for the next time you lay awake in bed, feeling this same arousing heat between your thighs...."

He boldly cupped her bottom and gave it a gentle squeeze, to inform her that he was well aware of her hidden desires. Claira, in turn, arched her back against him and released a long, hot sigh.

"Know that the candles in my private chambers burn well past midnight. Should you feel the need to seek my company, you will discover that I am most willing to entertain any proposal your body has to offer."

He ended his last word of provocation by gliding his mouth across her jaw line, and up to her lips.

"How forward of you, Professor," Claira hummed playfully.

"Severus," he corrected, slipping his fingers beneath her blouse.

" Mmmm, Severus then, " she purred helplessly beneath his hands, now tenderly massaging her bare breasts. 

Their curtain suddenly being torn open by a very disgruntled mediwitch, told Professor Snape that it was time to leave. Quickly withdrawing his hands, he grudgingly stood up and tossed his heavy cloak over his shoulders. Casting Madam Pomfrey a malicious grin, he cupped Claira's chin and tilted her mouth towards his for a brief kiss.

"You will remember my promise?"

She nodded swiftly, her eyes growing wide in disbelief. The man had some nerve challenging Poppy--he would be lucky if he were able to walk out of there in one piece!

"That will be quite enough from you, Severus Snape. I want you out! _Now_!" Madam Pomfrey erupted. She already had her hat removed and was swatting him away with it.

Once the door clicked closed, she whirled around to glare at Claira, her hands sternly placed upon her hips.

"You would do well to keep away from him, Claira." 

Claira furrowed her brows at the woman. As much as she respected her opinion, it really wasn't her place to say how she conducted herself outside of the hospital, or with whom. However rebellious as she was feeling, Claira bit her tongue and kept the conversation in good measure.

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem, since he just cancelled our testing sessions," she announced calmly. "Why do you disapprove of him anyway, Poppy? I don't understand."

"Sixteen long years of treatment and observation, my dear. I only say this with your best interest at heart. As much as I care for him, he is not the type of man you go losing your head over. I will say no more, except mind yourself; men are tricky devils when it comes to getting what they want."

Claira wasn't sure how to take that bit of motherly advice. Was it possible that the woman knew something about Severus that she did not? Or was she speaking of men in general? 

Quickly turning around, Claira began clearing the bed; she wanted to appear occupied and busy, before Madam Pomfrey completely embarrassed her by reciting the infamous "Birds and the Bees" speech.

  
  


========@=======@=======@=======@=======@========

  
  
Thursday morning, Claira was greeted with a most pleasant surprise. For the most part, breakfast in the Great Hall was usually dismal and uneventful. However, the gloom of silence that day was broken by a special delivery package. All eyes present, watched curiously as a small, gray owl swooped through the double doors carrying a rather large bundle in his beak. The haul seemed a bit much for him; evident by the awkward flapping and swaying he was doing as he struggled to reach the staff table. 

Circling Claira's head, the exhausted bird dropped its load, and then fell into her lap with a relieved "hoot". She gently picked him up and placed him on the table next to her plate, offering him a piece of biscuit in return for his services; it was only customary. After stroking his wings and complimenting him on his superb postal skills, Claira anxiously unbundled the strings and brown wrappings surrounding the parcel, before releasing a loud gasp of awe. Someone had sent her a beautiful bouquet of flowers! 

Severus watched the events unfold through cold, leery eyes. He noted how absolutely ecstatic Claira acted about the clump of weeds some dolt had given to her. She was sniffing and cradling them in her arms as if it were the best gift she had ever received. _How absurd_. When she was finally finished gawking at them, her eyes scanned the room, and then settled on him. Her face instantly brightened, her mouth forming a wide, appreciative grin. Good Merlin! The silly girl thought he was the one who sent them. Immediately, his stomach began to churn in a mixture of asperity and regret--as he suddenly wished he had. 

The odd expression on Professor Snape's face convinced Claira to douse her convictions. She was certain that he was the one, or did she simply _want_ him to be the romantic bestower of the flowers? Either way, they were awfully beautiful. As she admired the vast array of colored petals, a tiny white envelope stashed between the dark green leaves suddenly caught her attention. Raising her brow, she wove her fingers through the forest of stems, and carefully pulled it out. Quickly opening it, she withdrew a small piece of parchment and read:

  
  
_Milady,_

"A flower compares not to your beauty;

more delicate are thine eyes,

more soft are thy lips,

And your fragrance... doth be more lovely." 

  
I am looking forward to the Yule Ball. In case you want to match your gown, my dress robes are standard black with white trim and silver tassels. Unless you say otherwise, I will escort you from your rooms at 8:00pm. Until then...

Remus L. 

  
  
Claira's smiling lips formed each word as she read through the note. Severus watched her mouth carefully, his scowl growing fiercer by the second._ So, the bastard planned to woo her with cheap shrubbery and lame poems?_ Pathetic. The rose _he_ gave her was thrice the price that fool spent on the whole lot. Crossing his arms, he sneered on as the other female staff members began to nosy around her, begirding the card and bouquet with oohs and aahs. _Those bunch of chowder heads wouldn't know quality if it was branded with a sticker!_ He had half a mind to debunk Lupin's sorry attempt with his own endeavors, if only to show Claira how it should be done. Unlike that cadger, HE could afford the best. No matter though, he knew Remus' gift was only given to her out of compensation for certain_ inadequacies_. Snorting smugly at the thought, Severus stood and swooped through the staff door.

Claira watched Professor Snape's reaction out of the corner of her eyes. The twisted, knotted up expression of disgust on his face, made it pretty obvious that he was jealous. _Good!_ After all, she had not forgotten about his little 'episode' Tuesday, in the vacant classroom. No, she was bidding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity in which to exact her revenge. 

And it came, four nights later. 

  
  



	26. Sweet Revenge

  
  
Chapter: 26 (Revised)

  


** Sweet Revenge**

  
  
Moping around the infirmary had become a favorite pastime for Claira, as well as daydreaming in between patients and chores. Several days had come and gone without a single word from Severus. He neglected to appear at mealtimes, ordering his food to be brought down to the dungeons instead. Without their testing sessions, she had no reason, or should she say excuse, to see him. It was during these weaker moments of deprivation, that Claira thought to visit him and offer her hand of assistance. Though quickly dismissed it, concluding that she would only be disturbing his progress. _What did she know of chemical reactions or equilibratory solutions? _

Sunday morning, when Dumbledore finally released his floating mistletoe chasers, Claira fell into a right state of depression. The silly little things would select victims of their own liking, and ruthlessly follow them around until they received a kiss. Everywhere she turned, students were snogging--some a bit more explicit then Albus had originally intended; a simple peck on the cheek would suffice. 

Sneaking by corridors and racing down stairwells, Claira deliberately avoided the crowd of raging hormones. There were only one set of lips she wanted to kiss, and they currently belonged to the Potions Master... who, appears to have sworn himself to seclusion.

Later on that evening, Claira found herself in the Great Hall, molding a spoonful of mashed potatoes into a towering pyramid. After glancing around the staff table for the umpteenth time, she proceeded to decorate her masterpiece with bits of white rice and corn. Snatching up a nearby peppershaker, she finalized her sculpture with sprinkles of make-believe rain.... completely oblivious to the swoop of black robes, which unexpectedly entered the room through the staff door. 

"Ah, Severus! I'm glad to see you have finally decided to join us this evening," Dumbledore called out in between swallows of pumpkin juice.

Claira's eyes immediately tore up from her potatoes. He was there. His gaze briefly met hers before he sat down and began filling his dish with a considerate amount of food. She watched his activities for a few moments with a fluttering heart, before turning back to her own plate. Somehow, his presence had ignited her appetite. Or rather, revived it; she hadn't eaten properly for days. 

Serving herself a small bowl of tomato soup, Claira dipped her thin, silver spoon inside, and then carefully brought it to her lips. Lightly blowing off the steam, she flicked her tongue out to taste the temperature, before slowly covering it with her mouth. Swallowing the thick, pasty cream, her eyes drifted towards Professor Snape. Who, was presently staring back at her with a slightly raised brow. 

Ladling up another spoonful, Claira followed the same pattern.... blowing, sipping, then swallowing. And out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed a small, capricious curve form at the corner of Severus mouth. Which, in affect, caused her to realize the erotic nature of her current eating habits, and the fact that this might be the perfect opportunity to exact her revenge. Smirking maliciously into her napkin, she quickly scanned the table for more enticing weapons. 

Spotting a large fruit platter, she immediately selected a long, ripe banana from the assortment--finding it particularly difficult to suppress the giggles tickling the back of her throat. Breaking the stem open, she gingerly parted the peel, and teasingly wrapped her lips around the soft tip; she had seen enough racy films to know how this should be done. So she slowly glided the fruit's shaft into her mouth, and with the same provocative motion, slid it back out, gently nipping the end off upon its exit. Following the same sensual rhythm, she took in more of its length with each entry, curiously testing her own throats limitations.... also Professor Snape's ability to remain still in his seat; he had grown quite fidgety. With all the shifting and teeth grinding he was doing, one would think he was rather _uncomfortable._

Luck be it, Teresa was absent from dinner that night, or Severus might have had to endure the excruciating task of concocting excuses for the rather large bulge erupting from his pants. _Had Claira gone completely mad? Was she not concerned that another may witness her salacious behavior? _Glancing around the room, Severus noticed, surprisingly, that no one had. Quickly turning his attention back to her, he watched in perverse splendor as she lecherously devoured her banana. He had to admit, his intentions for attending the feast that night were based solely on seeing the girl. If only he had known that he'd be seeing a whole new, deliciously favorable side of her.... she was quite the little tease! 

Corrupted was his mind, as thoughts of epicurean encounters tempted his tactful intrigue. 

As Professor Snape covertly plotted and schemed, Claira took to desperately searching her surroundings for more tantalizing ammo. Perusing the cuisine, her eyes instantly settled on a bounty of red, cone-shaped delicacies. Ha, Strawberries! They looked just like.... fun! Pulling the small basket forward, she selected the largest one from the bunch. She then smothered its tip with a generous amount of whipped, white dip, before bringing it to her parted lips. Boldly meeting Severus' gape, she slowly swirled her tongue around the swell of the coated fruit, then provocatively slipped it into her mouth in order to suck off its remaining cream. 

It wasn't until Professor Snape's stare turned frightfully ravenous, that Claira decided to cease her taunting. Satisfied that her naughty little deed had successfully peaked his arousal, Claira pushed her plate away, and then rose from the table. A mockery smile formed on her lips as she rounded the way towards the double doors._ He wasn't the only one who possessed the ability to turn the other on and off like a light switch!_

Motivated by the accurate suspicion that he was still watching her from behind, she teasingly began swaying her hips back and forth, allowing her skirt to swish sinfully high up her thighs for a most lickerish walk down the aisle; it was to be her grand finale, an ending to her seductive presentation. And what a powerful feeling it was, to know that she could manipulate his body in such a fashion, without even having to touch him.

Severus' eyes rested hypnotically on the newly proclaimed temptress, as she flaunted herself invitingly down the center row in front of him. It was in that moment, that he thought Claira to be a natural born veela, minus the grotesque creature that lay beneath the enchanted exterior. Inside, she was just as intoxicating, just as enticing as her outside appearance. The sheer memory of the girl was cause enough to distract his better sense. It was only this type of wandless magic that could have charmed his legs into kicking back his stool in a most urgent need to follow. Almost trance-like, he floated mindlessly through the staff door, meagerly aware that his path was leading him directly to her private rooms--rather than his study door. Where, his obligations lay unfinished and completely forgotten. 

After casually pushing through the double doors, Claira collectively strolled across the Entrance Hall, casting lazy glancing over her shoulder to insure that no one else was present. Satisfied that there wasn't, she immediately tore off on her heels up the marble staircase, and then down several winding corridors. Swiftly climbing the steps leading to the second level, Claira suddenly felt a cold, eerie breeze prickle the hairs on the back of her neck. Spinning around, she cautiously peered down the empty stairwell. There was no one there. Nothing... except still, dark shadows splotching white marble. Panting heavily, she turned back around and continued on her mad dash to reach her chambers--before Severus. He would have certainly followed; the rapacious expression on his face before she left the Great Hall told her so. If he were to catch her.... 

Pausing briefly at the top of the final staircase, Claira leaned her back against the wall, and then slowly peeked around the corner. The hallway appeared to be vacant. Holding her breath, she quickly tiptoed across the cold, stone floor towards her chamber door. It was not password protected like the others; her rooms required a more conventional form of entry. Stopping just long enough to slip her fingers into her blouse pocket, Claira nervously withdrew a small, silver skeleton key and slipped it into the lock.

Perfectly timed for a flawless distraction, a low, mischievous laugh sounded just behind her, successfully breaking the silent tension in the corridor, as well as her concentration on the key; she was not alone. Startled, Claira whirled around and let out a great gasp of surprise. Staring wide-eyed, she watched as a tall, dark form slowly emerged from the shadows. Shrouds of black robes billowed in his footsteps as he stalked towards her, his walk simply oozing sinister intent. She need not guess the man's identity. Claira knew exactly who it was, even before the flicker of candlelight illuminated Professor Snape's frightfully predaceous visage. 

Like the cautious prey, she took a few steps backwards, blindly searching the door handle for a way to escape. Just as her thumb grazed the contoured end of the key, Severus halted his approach; though only to tower over her with a hungry grin. 

"Allow me," he breathed silkily in her ear, while his palm smoothed down the length of her arm and around her slender wrist. 

In the next instant, his large hand covered her own, guiding her fingers in a slow, circular motion until the lock turned over with a loud click. Releasing his grip, he moved to the latch, flipped it opened, and then ushered her under the archway with the forceful nudge of his chest. 

Once inside, Severus quickly snapped the door shut, then locked it.... Oh gods, what has she gotten herself into! 

Claira knew she was trapped--trapped in a dimly lit bedroom with a man who looked as though he were about to devour her whole. Had she not expected this? Perhaps even secretly wanted it to happen? She knew when she left the Great Hall that he had intentions to follow. Yet, instead of remaining, she made for her private rooms, knowing he would probably use the castle's hidden passages to head her off. This was her doing, her game. Severus had played right into it. And by doing so, presented her with the perfect opportunity to prove that she was not the naive little girl he thought!

So enthralled with rallying her own thoughts, Claira hardly noticed Professor Snape's advancement until he had her captured by the hips. Spinning her around, he used his full body weight to pin her back against the wall. His eyes were dark and menacing, much like his voice....

"I suppose you found it rather amusing to provoke my arousal in the Great Hall earlier? One can only assume, after witnessing such licentious behavior from a female, that the temptress doth intend to fulfill all her offered propositions." 

As he spoke, his greedy fingers snaked beneath her blouse.... and then her bra. Teasingly, he pinched and toyed with her nipples, causing them to swell and harden. 

" I don't know what you're talking about, Professor, " Claira whispered breathlessly, trying to stabilize her mind long enough to appear ignorant. 

Smirking down at her poor attempt of denial, Severus wrapped one of his arms around her tiny waist and then effortlessly lifted her to a nearby dresser. Setting her down on top of it, he brazenly parted her thighs with his hands, before roughly pressing his erection between her legs. 

"Oh, but I think you do. In fact...." A swift pelvic thrust was performed, causing Claira to draw in a deep, rippled breath. "I think you want this just as much, if not more so, than I," Severus purred arrogantly, while dragging his mouth and tongue across her lips. 

Claira struggled to stay focused--his kiss was far too dangerous a distraction. She had to keep reminding herself that this was her game, not his. She did want him, but was not about to hand over her virginity on a silver platter. No, he would have to earn it._ 'And that's where she held power over him!' _Claira suddenly realized. She held the final decision. Of course, Severus could always_ forcefully_ take her; but she knew that he wouldn't. If he was that demented a man, he would have done it already, as there had been many opportunities to do so in the past.

Grinning inwardly at her new line of defense, Claira retaliated against his imposing mouth by firmly nipping on his bottom lip. He immediately pulled back with a furrowed brow of confusion, while running his tongue along the place she had bitten to test whether any blood had been drawn.

"Isn't it customary for a gentleman to first _ask _a lady for permission, before brutishly manhandling her?" Claira asserted softly, while calmly pushing him away. She then crossed her legs to deny him any further access.

"Manhandling you, am I?" Severus began, his dark, brewing eyes suddenly dropping to her locked thighs in disappointment. "My apologies, madam. You see,_ most_ women consider this to be favorable foreplay. No matter though, I suppose your.... inexperience, for lack of a better term, _would_ cause you to misconstrue the normalcies of sexual praxis, " he finished with a vindictive smirk.

It was a malicious statement, one that successfully caused a scarlet blush to form on Claira's cheeks. _How did he know she was still a virgin? Was it that obvious? _Once again, he had managed to stifle her nerve; he was too skilled with mental strategy for her to compete.... Or perhaps she just wasn't trying hard enough!

"On the other hand, whoever told you I was a gentleman?" Severus added pompously, while his hand slid up her thigh in shrewd defiance.

"I can only imagine, Professor..." She paused briefly to brush his probing fingers away before they traveled too far up her skirt. "That it was the same person who told you I was offering proposals at dinner." 

Finally growing frustrated with her continuous dismissal of his touch, Severus withdrew his hand and conjured his most serious, austere voice.

"Enough of this fatuous nonsense, Claira. You obviously wish to be wooed in ways that I have not conceded. What is it you seek? What foolish endeavors must I bestow to earn your submission?"

Taking a step back, he shrugged off his cloak and lazily tossed it on the dresser beside her.

"You will find that I am most eager to please... all you need do is ask."

When she didn't immediately respond, he took it upon himself to guess; he never was a man of patience.

"Flowers, perhaps?"

With the slight raise of his hand, he snapped his fingers, causing the room to fill with a vast assortment. Claira's eyes instantly widened in splendor, as she scanned at least a dozen or so large bouquets...red, yellow, and white roses, florescent carnations, blue irises, pink daisies, purple tulips.... Sweet Merlin! It was such a lovely sight; she simply adored flowers.

"Or do you prefer chocolates?" 

Another magical snap from his fingers, and an enormous quantity appeared on her bed; golden boxes, silver wrappers, waxed seals, all concealing delicious treats for her delight. Claira immediately began licking her lips in anticipation.

" Still not enough? Certainly poetry will suffice."

Moving closer, Severus leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to her ear. Speaking in a deep, seductive tone, he recited a silly muggle poem that he had found in the school's library. Ridiculous as it were, it reminded him of Claira. Whether it did so because of its origin, or simply the erotical nature of its content, he wasn't certain. Either way, he memorized it for her, thinking it may come in handy...Alas!

"Your kisses, and the way you curl 

Delicious and distracting girl, 

Into one's arms and round about 

Inextricably in an out, 

Twining luxuriously, as twine 

The clasping tangles of the vine, 

So loving to be loved, so gay 

And greedy for our holiday, 

Strong to embrace and long to kiss 

And strenuous for the sharper bliss, 

A little tossing sea of sighs, 

Till the slow calm seal up your eyes. 

And then how prettily you sleep! 

You nestle close and let me keep

My straying fingers in the nest

Of your warm comfortable breast, 

And as I dream, lying awake, 

Of sleep well wasted for your sake, 

I feel the very pulse and heat

Of your young life-blood beat, and beat 

With mine, and you are mine, my sweet!"

Claira's heart thudded loudly in her chest. _Gods, how she wanted this man! _How easy it would be to fall into his lips, which were now gliding openly across her own.... NO! Enticing as his benevolence was, she knew that these things were only issued as bait, to lure her into bed. Come to think of it, his attempts were rather insulting! Did he honestly think that she could be bought or verbally manipulated? Well he had another thing coming! If its foreplay that he wanted, then foreplay he shall receive; but on her terms.

"You're right, Severus. That is _exactly_ what I wanted," Claira purred deceptively, while wrapping her arms around his neck.

Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue entry, welcoming the kiss with a heated flare. He moaned into her mouth appreciatively, while eagerly matching her velocity with a complimenting rhythm. Together they teased, tasted, and explored, their lips locked tightly in a fierce battle for domination. 

Smoothing her hands over Severus' chest, Claira boldly began freeing the large, round buttons lining his vest, occasionally letting her fingers roam to the silver buckle strapped around his trousers. Meanwhile, Severus took to caressing her inner thighs, slowly working them apart until he had enough room to settle himself in between. She arched her back for him, and even went as far as to wrap her legs around his waist in response. 

Growling in delight of her acceptance, Severus cupped her bottom, and lifted her from the dresser with full intentions of carrying her over to the bed. Catching onto his ploy, Claira immediately halted his progress by sliding her feet down to the floor; the bed was NOT a given option. Severus instantly broke off the kiss to stare down at her with a scowl of protest. She simply smiled at him, before moving her attention to the clasps of his under shirt. He made to say something, but lost his words in the sensation of her warm lips upon the bare skin of his chest. Claira's goal was to distract, as she planted soft, moist kisses and light suckles along the whole of his torso. 

So enthralled in her seduction, Severus hardly noticed that she was slowly pushing him backwards towards the door. Slipping his hands beneath her skirt, he absentmindedly began tracing the floral patterns on her lace panties, occasionally toying with the straps in an attempt to draw them down. Seemingly acceptable to his conquest, and to much of his delight, Claira adjusted her hips slightly and allowed him to do so; hasty were his fingers, as they wasted no time in skimming them off. Smirking in perverse triumph, he watched the thin layer of white fabric soar down her creamy legs in a graceful flight to the floor. Curious to see what else may lay beneath, or lack there of, Severus quickly moved to hike up her remaining garments. 

Fighting back a malevolent giggle, Claira let him view just enough nude flesh to peak his intrigue, before gently intercepting his hands.

"Mmmm, care to see more?" Claira taunted in a low hum.

"You know I do," he murmured softly against her skin, while lavishing her neck with hot, moist kisses.

"Perhaps, if you ask nicely," she teased, suddenly feeling very powerful.

Unlatching his lips, Severus pulled back to glare down at her in stubborn refusal. In return, she grinned nonchalantly and pushed his hands away--though only to have them urgently replaced.

"_Please_," he whispered, in a tone barely audible to the human ear.

Claira had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing, as he released a long heavy sigh of defeat. In a way, she almost felt guilty for playing on his weaknesses... almost. Severus really _did_ deserve every bit of what he was about to get. He needed to learn that he couldn't simply grope and fondle her whenever he pleased, not without her permission anyway. Perhaps if he knew what it felt like to be left hot and wanting, he wouldn't be so keen as to drag her into empty classrooms....

Severus' hands were growing more persistent, and aggressive, as they roamed beneath her skirt. More urgent were his lips as they ravished her throat, shoulders, and mouth; the rock hard bulge pressing into her abdomen reminded Claira of her own cultivating heat--the inevitable was drawing near. Running her hands over his bare chest, she slowly wove her fingers in and out of his raven mane, while gingerly forcing him to move within mere inches of the archway. 

Meanwhile, exploring fingers found their way to the base of her soft, brown curls. There, they swirled and teased, prompting her eyes to close and body to shiver in sweet anticipation. Further down they traveled, to where his fingertips became dampened by her most hidden desire. And here they dwelled, summoning unchaste moans and drowning her mind in distractive, sensual thoughts. In a desperate attempt to stay afloat, Claira nimbly reached out and clicked the lock over on the door. 

Startled, Severus ripped his mouth from her throat and jotted his head towards the noise. But his brain was too befuddled to decipher the intrusive racket. And before he could make a proper supposition, Claira assertively grabbed his face and kissed him with a fiery passion. The sheer urgency of her lips was cause enough to void his thoughts of all past, present, and future disturbances. Every fiber of his being was aroused, his mind, intoxicated by the alluring scent of her sex. He could think of nothing more than his want, no, NEED to be inside her. There, was heaven; the time and space between constrictive clothing, was hell. 

Treading dangerously on the brink of madness, Severus grabbed Claira's hips and forcefully drove her back against the wall. His chest kept her in place, while his hands dropped to the leather strap holding up his trousers. His arrogant lips kept her ear company, as he fumbled to release any and all fabric restraints. 

"Hold back nothing tonight, my sweet. Hold back nothing, and I will give to you _everything_ your body so desires. I know of your wants... your needs. I know what it is you crave... what you have been craving from the moment we first met." 

Claira's eyes immediately widened upon the sound of his zipper being drawn down. Then once again, as his hand snaked beneath her thigh and lifted her leg up to his hip in preparation for entry. 

"I trust you will find my techniques rather adept and quite satisfying," Severus assured her smugly, as his 'skilled' fingers fumbled with the final clasp on his under garments. 

This was certainly_ not _how she envisioned her first sexual experience to be. Where was the romance? Where were the glowing candles and satin bed sheets? Where were the whispered words of love and adoration? _Where the devil is that bloody door handle? _Desperately scouting the oak barrier, Claira's hand struggled to find the brass fixing; she would have to act soon.

"Do you truly know of my desires, Severus?" Claira whispered distractively in his ear, as she lightly suckled at his lobe. 

"Indeed," he muttered, amidst a soft moan. 

"And my needs?" she continued, moving her attention to his mouth. Tracing his lower lip with her tongue, she taunted a kiss, but refused to seal it.

"I do," he responded irritably, one hand still toiling with his boxer snap. The other entwined through her hair, pulling her closer in a strenuous effort to claim her mouth.

"My wants?" she pressed on, briefly meeting his tongue with a playful swirl, before abruptly pulling away again.

"_Yes_," he snarled in frustration. "Now kiss me, damn you!"

**POP.**

Claira gasped at the ravenous grin that suddenly pierced his lips; the infamous button had finally been freed! Luckily, in that same instant, her fingers brushed against the door handle. 

She immediately gripped it tightly and readied herself....

"So then it's fair to assume that you already know how I _want _to be touched and caressed tenderly; _need _to be held and embraced affectionately; _crave _to be made love to passionately--none of which you have shown any intentions of doing tonight," she boldly stated, feeling confident in her decision to end this game before further advancements could be made.

Claira felt his body stiffen at her words. Halting is progress, he stared down at her with an odd expression on his face, as if struggling to translate some sort of foreign language. After a few moments of awkward silence, he slowly raised his brow in enlightenment, supposing he had solved the riddle.

"We can remove our clothing if you prefer," he offered coolly, gifting her a generous grin.

" If I prefer... if I _prefer_?" Claira erupted, unable to believe such an intelligent man could be so dense.

With a new motivation for throwing him out, Claira quickly gave the door a forceful tug, placed both her hands on his chest, and then gave him a great shove over the threshold. Severus stumbled backwards a few feet, tripping over his cape, but caught his footing just in time to avoid further embarrassment. 

"Goodnight, Professor," she spat angrily, still a bit miffed at his crude commentary. 

Bewildered, Severus' eyes tore around the vacant corridor, and then back to Claira, who was currently in mid process of closing the door. As if awakening from some deep stupor, he swiftly lunged forward and caught the door with his arm.

"Let's not be hasty, my dear. If it is romance that you seek, then all I need do is apply a simple adjustment to my performance; which I am certain you will find quite accommodating--"

**SNAP.**

**_Click._**

The door was abruptly slammed closed in his face, leaving his nose to rest within mere inches of solid oak. With his mouth fully agape, Severus stared on blankly, struggling to comprehend his current predicament. 

_What the hell just happened? _

Anger, confusion, frustration, and excitement--all festering inside like a massive ball of tangled rubbish. And that's exactly what this was, rubbish! Four bloody months of courting the silly girl, and he was no closer to bedding her than when he had first began! Her dismissal tonight was ludicrous, not to mention entirely uncalled for. He did nothing wrong. Said nothing erroneous or inapt. So what more did she require of him? 

_"I believe she already told you, moron. It wasn't what you did; rather what you didn't do," corrected that antagonizing voice inside his head._

Granted that, however, he treated her no different than any other woman he had ever copulated.

_"Precisely the point. You treated her as if she were one of the Deatheaters' hired whores, or your occasional tavern harlot--they don't demand much do they? No feelings, no emotions to worry with. Claira is different. She needs to be taken into consideration; she deserves more respect. The only thing you have managed to DO with her tonight, is make a complete ass out of yourself!"_

**Click.**

Severus immediately ceased his psychotic conversing to stare at the door, which was now cautiously being opened to avoid entry by unwanted intruders from the outside--that would be _him_. In the next instant, his cloak was dramatically tossed at him, accompanied by a sweet grin of falsely proclaimed innocence.

**SNAP.**

**_Click._**

So, this is what he has been reduced to? Standing pathetically outside her door, half clothed, babbling utter nonsense to himself while his cloak lie draped over his head in mockery? How foolish he must appear! How degrading this was....

A faint echo of voices prickled his ears, causing his eyes to widen in horror beneath his veiled cape. 

How absolutely humiliating!

He quickly snatched his cloak down and hotly tossed it over his shoulders. Fastening his shirt and trousers in record speed, he swiftly retreated into the safety of the shadows, grumbling slurs and curses along his path to the dungeons.

Upon entering the private sanctuary of his study, Severus stripped off his cape and vest, leaving them to lie in an untidy heap on the floor. He cast a disdainful scowl at the pile of scrolls, books, and ungraded parchments upon his desk, before brisking past them on the way to his liquor cabinet; they will have to wait. Snatching out his trusty bottle of fire whiskey, he quickly uncorked it and tilted it to his lips. After pouring an absurd quantity down his throat, he slowly lowered it, and then stalked over to his armchair; it was already facing the fire, perfectly positioned for sulking. Severus immediately slumped into it and released a long agitated growl. 

A few more swigs of liquor were stolen, before he dropped his gaze to the raging flames beneath the mantle. He could still feel the sensational burn of Claira's lips on his skin, the scorching heat of her wetness on his fingertips, the painful throbbing in his pants.... Looking down, he spat curses; he was still fully erect. _Did the foolish girl not know the excruciating torture a man must endure when an arousal is provoked without release?_ Throwing his head back, Severus guzzled from the bottle recklessly, while his fingers effortlessly freed the buttons on his shirt. Traveling down further, they unstrapped his belt buckle, and then the clasp on his trousers--all without folly. With eyes closed, and whiskey to lips, he swiftly drew down his zipper and slipped his hand inside. Rapidly stroking himself, he thought of Claira, and all the things he could have done to her, _should_ have done to her, had he not been such a fumbling idiot with his dressings. 

  
  
**Meanwhile....**

  
  
Claira leaned against her bedroom door, half laughing, and half brooding over Professor Snape's departure. It was not like her to act so maliciously, so selfish, so vindictive--perhaps he was beginning to rub off on her! Hugging herself tightly, she closed her eyes and replayed the night's events in her head. His presence still lingered in the room, on her clothes, under her skin. The masculine scent of him clouded her senses with the aroma of herbs and spices, sweat and musk; the taste of him was just as enticing.

Thinking of the endeavors he had conjured, Claira's eyes suddenly flickered opened, and then widened at the lovely vision before her. Rushing forward with a wide grin, she approached one of the red rose bouquets and leaned in for a sniff. She absolutely loved the smell of flowers.... except these didn't seem to have any particular fragrance to them. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she lifted her fingers to the petals, only to have her hand pass right through them, like a mirage. Then, quite unexpectedly, the whole arrangement vanished into thin air. Dropping her jaw in shock, she whirled around just in time to witness the rest follow suit. They all disappeared within a matter of seconds, leaving only the memory of their beauty behind.

Claira solemnly glanced around the room, and then frowned. Her precious flowers were all gone. The only gifts that remained were.... her chocolates! Running at full speed, she dove into the pile with her arms spread wide; like an eagle soaring in the wind, her spirits were lifted. But before her belly could even touch the mattress, the whole lot of them faded into a wisp of smoke. They too were gone. With a pouting lip, Claira stared down at the vacant bed sheets. They were only illusions, mind hallucinations spawned to trick her eyes and heart into thinking they were real.... Why that sneaky, rotten, conniving, devilish, SNAKE!!!


	27. Disturbing Thoughts

  
  
Chapter: 27 (Revised)

  
  


**Disturbing Thoughts**

  
  
**Saturday, December 13th. Six days prior to the conference....**

Mischievous was the flame that burned imminently on its wick, flickering light upon its master's parchment in astute defiance, as it threatened to drown itself within the deadly pool of wax which lie just beneath. Redipping his quill tip, Severus raced against time to complete his final sentence, before the rogue flame willed its contemptuous leap of doom. 

Shadow begot light upon the concluding loop of written language; the candle's mockery death had ended in vain. 

Dropping his feathered pen in exhaustion, Professor Snape sorely arched his back, and stretched his arms out with a loud yawn. Glancing at his hourglass, he sighed deeply, and then rose from his chair. The whole of the night had been spent working on his research data for the colloquy, which has respectfully progressed to the point of mild satisfaction. Perhaps a few hours of well-earned, and much needed sleep can be appropriated, before tending to his laboratory; where, the vast majority of his priorities lay-- a brewing cauldron containing his deflector potion being one of them. 

Rounding his desk, Severus made for a large, wooden bookcase; which conveniently concealed a hidden passageway leading to his private rooms. During his travel, a loud wrapping sounded at his study door, halting his journal... and his chance for rest._ What the devil could anyone possibly want at this hour?_ Grumbling choice slanders beneath his breath, he sharply spun on his heel, fully prepared to reprimand the obnoxious intruder who dared disturb his moment of peace. Gripping the handle tightly, he violently swung it open--and then ducked to avoid a large satchel being hauled at his head by a flustered looking owl. 

Spitting mad curses, Severus damned the bird to hell, while hotly snatching his delivery up from off the floor. As he did, the bird boldly hooted back at him in strife, then perched himself upon his fireplace mantel as if he were invited; which, he most certainly was _NOT!_

"Get the hell out of here you squalid little beast! And don't expect any gratuity either. Your postal manners, are by far, the worst sort I have ever had the displeasure of encountering--you absolute disgrace to the name of owl! Now quickly remove yourself... before I lose my temper," Severus venomously spat, before dropping his gaze to the small scribble of parchment tied to the pouch.

It read:

Works like a charm...I am much obliged to you.

P. Grogger

Realizing he was not going to receive any toppings for his efforts, the disgruntled owl let out an ear-piercing screech, and then dove off the mantel. Soaring low, it aimed for the threshold, casting Professor Snape an evil glare amidst its departure. 

Glancing up from his note, Severus quickly kicked the door closed, causing the bird to crash into it, beak first, with a loud, painful thud.

"I've had a change of plans. You _WILL _deliver this package to Miss Claira Bell, third floor," he instructed curtly, while stepping around the filthy clump of feathers littering his floor.

Stalking over to his desk, Severus lazily tossed the purse onto his weighing scale; which accurately determined the payment to be of sufficient value. He then rummaged through his belongings for a scrap piece of parchment and quill, before jotting down a brief message to replace the previous one given. Furious as he may be with the girl, Claira did deserve some sort of guerdon for rendering her services as his private tester. 

With ruffled feathers and a faltered ego, the owl watched warily as Professor Snape approached him with a twisted sneer. 

Hotly whipping the door open, Severus pitched the satchel at the bird, then ushered him out with a swift nudge from his boot. 

  
  
**A short time later....**

  
  
The owl arrived at Claira's door, as instructed by the stingy, sour-faced man.

Tap.

Tap.... Tap.... **TAP!**

**TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!**

Startled awake, Claira quickly sat up, and stared around the room wild-eyed, desperately searching her chamber for the source of that horrible racket. Striping away her covers, she stood from her bed, and wobbled clumsily to the door. Tugging it open, she was immediately greeted by a pair of large, flapping wings; which sent her wheeling backwards onto her rump upon their entry.

Swooping inside with authority, the owl brazenly ignored the human's peril as it landed comfortably on a nearby bed. Setting his load down, he stubbornly rested his clawed foot upon it, determined to receive some type of lagniappe for his trouble.

Slowly rising to her feet, Claira turned to the owl, observing its demeanor with apprehension. She remembered the last time a creature of the feathered sort eyed her like that; it was Falcor, Professor Snape's pet monster, who had nearly ripped her hand off when she tried to pat it. Approaching her nightstand cautiously, she retrieved a bag of cookies that she had smuggled from dinner the previous night, and carefully placed it in front of the bird as an offering of peace. The owl hooked its head slightly to survey the booty, giving her a small _"hoot"_ of acceptance. Snatching the bag up in its beak, he took off in flight, leaving Claira to stare at the large, brown sack he left behind with extreme curiosity. 

Rushing to the door, she quickly snapped it shut, and then ran back to her bed with full intentions of investigating her surprise package. Untying the small note attached, she hurriedly flipped it over and read,

  
Ms. Bell,

Your generous compensation, as per our agreement.

Expect our 'meetings' to recommence one week prior to the holiday's end.

No excuses.

Professor S. Snape

  
Claira released a long, heavy sigh, as she stared down at the parchment, her heart beating wildly with rapture; he still wanted to see her! Six lonely days had come and gone since their last encounter. All of which, he had spent in solitude, purposely avoiding her like the plague; not that she blamed him, her vengeful tactics last Sunday were anything but plausible. Regardless of whether he deserved it or not, Claira felt guilty, and rightfully ashamed of her actions. _Perhaps an apology would be a fitting compromise?_

Glancing down, her attention was immediately drawn back to the heavy purse, and its long, dangling strings; which kept its hidden contents secret. Grinning excitedly, she worked the ties loose, and then carefully spilled its goods out onto the mattress. 

Dear Merlin!

Claira's mouth instantly fell agape, as she stared down in wide-eyed disbelief at the enormous quantity of gold galleons sprawled across her bed. Severus had gifted her a small fortune! Never before has she been in possession of such a large amount of money, wizard or otherwise--which immediately caused her eyes to narrow in suspicion. With a hesitant hand, she slowly swept her fingers across the loot, testing whether or not it was another one of his illusionary tricks. The cold hard surface of the coins, which honorably clicked and clanked upon her touch, told her it was not. _Gods, how much salary does one fair as a Professor here at Hogwarts?_

Gazing hungrily at the mini mountain of gold, Claira suddenly frowned. She should return this to him at once; certainly she had not earned such a bountiful reward. However, majestic as Professor Snape was, she knew he would not accept it back. And it would only prove rude of her to decline his offering. She'll just have to extend her thanks; along with that apology she owes him.

Claira spent the next half hour counting her booty, which tallied to a whopping twenty five hundred galleons! With this type of funding, her shopping trip to Hogsmeade will render a very happy Christmas indeed! It was a perfect beginning, to an already destined to be perfect day. Madam Pomfrey had mercifully given her the weekend off; although she was sure it had more to do with her constant sulking and grieving, than the said act of kindness. And with no pending obligations, a pocket full of money, and a bright, shinning sun, she was free to spend her time doing whatever she pleases.

After a long, hot shower, Claira selected the appropriate 'shop till you drop' attire, and carefully slipped them on. Collecting several fistfuls of gold, she generously filled up her travel pack, before cheerfully heaving it over her shoulders. Satisfied that all was in order, she stepping through the door. 

So distracted by thoughts of what to buy and for who, Claira failed to see the large mound of fur lying in her path, and clumsily tripped over it.

Padfoot released a loud yelp, before rising to his paws with a vicious snarl. Glaring about the corridor, he immediately ceased his ferocious display of fury when he discovered his attacker to be Claira; who was currently laying face down on the cold, stone floor. Lowering his head in shame, he approached her with a soft whimper of apology, while gingerly nudging her cheek with his nose. To much of his surprise, and delight, Claira wrapped her arms around his neck, and gifted him a gentle kiss on the snout.

"You poor thing! I didn't see you there," she cooed, while hugging him close to her breast.

Unable to resist temptation, Padfoot quickly collapsed into Claira's lap, and buried his face into her cleavage; all the while, inhaling her lovely fragrance with a swaggering tail and thumping heart. So soft was her bosom, and warm, that he nearly lost control over his tongue, which was threatening to besiege her skin and lap up its sweetness. 

Oblivious to his perverse exploits, Claira issued him one final kiss, before tenderly pushed him away so that she could stand and dust off her clothing.

"I was just on my way to town... Care to join me?"

Barking excitedly, Padfoot danced around her legs, and then pawed at her jeans to show his interest in accompanying her to the village. 

"I'll take that as a yes," she chortled. "It's a date then!"

Pushing through the double doors, Claira discovered the weather to be a bit frostier then she had originally anticipated. Retrieving her wand, she quickly charmed her body with a warming spell, before descended the massive, stone steps leading to the castle grounds. There was a slight skip in her step as she journeyed along the path leading to Hogsmeade. Equally was Padfoot's prance, for he was traveling just as happily by her side.... on their **DATE! **

The entire village was embellished with spectacular Christmas decorations; much like the ones depicted in holiday greeting cards and plastic snow globes. Claira stared around in amazement, gasping occasionally as she made her way down the winding roads. Padfoot, galloped valiantly beside her, casting warning growls at any male gentry that ventured too close to his woman. He was a knight in shinning black fur, protecting his damsel from the evils of the world._'Just let one of those smarmy gits try and approach her, he'll have them fleeing towards the shrieking shack grasping their bullocks!'_

Hopping over a mud puddle, Claira's stomach let out a loud grumble, reminding her that breakfast should be first on her '_to do_' list. Glancing down at her furry companion, she gently patted his head and asked,

"Hungry?"

Padfoot's large, floppy ears immediately perked up, as did his heart. Claira knew nothing of his true form. And yet, she spoke to him as if she did, as if he were human. God, what he wouldn't give to walk upright by her side, hand in hand, man and woman, as nature intended. His animagus was no longer just a clever disguise. It has somehow become something much more, something much worse--A bloody curse! The very thing that keeps him from answering his true love's calling. Claira was his love. And he was certain that she would return his affections, feel just as he did; if only she could see him for what he was, _WHO_ he really was. 

"Come on, Padfoot. Let's go," Claira called softly, while slapping her knee for him to follow.

_'It's Sirius, love. My name is Sirius.'_

Together, they walked along the dusty trail, rounding the village until they came upon a small, wooden sign that read, "Magian's Cafe". Shrugging her shoulders, Claira crossed the way, and gingerly peeked through the window. There was a desirable count of witches and wizards inside; certainly she would be able to sneak Padfoot in without anyone noticing. Tugging the door open, she quietly slipped inside, and gingerly wove her way through the crowd until she reached a vacant corner table. Snickering in triumph, she ushered Padfoot beneath, while pulling a chair out for herself. Within moments, a plump, middle-aged witch approached her with a writing tablet and crooked grin. 

"What'll it be, Miss?" She croaked in a husky voice.

"Um, I think I'll have a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast.... Oh, and an extra serving of sausage," ordered Claira, while discreetly sliding her hand underneath the table to scratch Padfoot's ear.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with her breakfast, accompanied by an enchanted goblet of orange juice, which conveniently refilled itself upon command. 

When Claira was certain that no one was looking, she snuck Padfoot a generous portion of food from off her plate, and then proceeded to feed herself. 

Nearing the end of her delicious meal, Claira stole one final sip of juice, before slowly lowering her goblet to the floor. Padfoot wasted no time in lapping up its contents, while his tongue secretly swirled around the rim in a pathetic attempt to taste her mouth. Psychotic as it may be, this was probably the closest he would ever come to a real kiss; lips to snout didn't count. THAT would be over obsessing. Then again, his actions earlier this morning, were probably provocation enough to brand him completely insane. Nose to tit, though highly enjoyable as it deemed, was not exactly what one might consider 'normal' behavior. He cared not. He would act a fool thrice over if it earned him even a smidgen of Claira's attention.... Ah, the sweet travesties of love!

Once the bill was paid, Claira exited the eatery, making certain that she, and the large black dog riding her heel, escaped unnoticed. Venturing down the road, she immediately began her search for a proper dress shop. With the Yule Ball less than two weeks away, her second priority of the day was to obtain an evening gown. She needed something glamorous, but not obtrusive. The color should be complimentary to Remus' robes, though not exactly matching. And she would prefer the dress to be sleeveless, however not too revealing. She needed something.... Just like _THAT!_

Racing up to a small storefront window, Claira pressed her nose to the glass, while gawking in awe at a beautiful white dress, shimmering with silver sparkles that seemed to catch the light just right for a most spectacular display of perfection. The design was simple, almost mugglish, but just fancy enough to be considered wizard. Its length extended to the floor and trailed behind, with slits and contours in all the right places. 

Quickly wiping off the fog her breath left behind in excitement, Claira rushed through the door, leaving Padfoot outside to sneeze rabidly in her trail of dust. 

Upon entering the shop, and without even bothering to view the other dresses, she dashed to front counter. Behind it, sat an elderly witch, whose fingers were busy resewing loose buttons on a magical tunic.

"I _NEED_.... Erm, would like to purchase that gown there, please," Claira blurted out, while pointing at her dream dress with lusty eyes.

The old witch slowly spun around, smiling knowingly, as she withdrew a long strip of measuring tape from her robe pocket. 

"Come here, my dear," the woman instructed kindly, while pulling out a small, wooden stool for her to stand upon.

Within minutes, her measurements were collected; though mostly garnered by the elderly witch's wand. Stepping back down, Claira quickly unzipped her travel pack, and slipped her hand inside.

"How much do I owe you?" Claira asked impatiently, however polite enough to evade rudeness.

The old woman, who's name Claira learned to be Morgana, slowly snailed her way back to the front of the shop. She eagerly followed, bouncing on her toes as if to hurry their journey along.

Finally resting herself behind the counter, Morgana began tapping her long, bony fingers on her chin, while eyeing Claira with a calculated glare.

"That particular gown you seek is very rare and special indeed. I'm afraid I can not let it go for anything short of... two hundred and fifty galleons," rasped the old witch, her upper lip twitching noticeably.

The woman was asking a bit much, but Claira didn't mind in the least. She had plenty of money in which to purchase the dress, thanks to Severus. Counting out the exact tender, she hastily placed it upon the counter, as if the gown would soon perish into a heap of knotted thread. 

Morgana's worn features instantly lifted, in light of the foolish girl's overly anxious determination to purchase the garment. Never before has she failed to acknowledge a business opportunity; especially one that presents itself so invitingly....

"Three hundred.... If you wish to receive the dress in time for the Yule Ball," she abruptly added, her wrinkled lip now twitching feverishly.

Claira's mouth instantly fell agape at the witch's words. The once, sweet old lady, had magically woven herself into a swindling old crone right before her very eyes! _Of all the nerve!_ However, just as her tongue prepared itself to argue her position, a flicker of silver glitter suddenly captured her attention, forcing her gaze back upon the lovely gown in longing. 

It truly was the perfect attire.

Groaning in self-defeat, as her desire for the dress far outweighed the need to pinch a penny, Claira stuffed her hand back into her sack, and grudgingly retrieved the remaining ransom.

With all the appropriate arrangements made, she left the clothing store to rejoin her faithful companion outside. Together, she and Padfoot worked their way around the village, stopping at each and every shop until her travel pack became heavily burdened by an abundance of shrunken gifts. 

It was a little known fact, that Madam Pomfrey enjoyed every chocolate and candy treat known to wizard kind. And luck have it, her secret stash, which Claira knew to be hidden beneath a loose stone tile in the medicine room, was nearly empty. The woman claimed to be checking the store's inventory whenever she emerged from its dwellings, but was it really necessary to do so five times a day? Claira knew better. The mediwitch was popping treacle tarts and fizzy whuzzles! So it was at Honeydukes, that she purchased Poppy a large basket full of all sorts. Although, at the same time, feeling a tad guilty for supporting such an unhealthy addiction. 

A strange little shop called, "Gladrags Wizardwear," provided her the perfect present for Dumbledore; a pair of whimsical socks that chimed holiday tunes upon each step. She was certain that he would find them quite humorous, if nothing else. The various other shops, supplied her with gifts that she planned to send to her family back home. As muggles, they were always thrilled to receive any type of wizard souvenir; especially her little sister, Jenny. The girl was practically obsessed with magic, though held no signs of becoming a witch herself. It truly was a shame, for she was just the right age to attend a wizarding school; perhaps even Hogwarts, if their parents had decided to remain living in London. Ha! Severus would have been her Potions Professor! Hmmm, come to think of it, had her parents not moved to the states when she was ten, Severus might have been _her _Potions Professor! 

With dusk rapidly approaching, and everyone provided for, save one, Claira rushed to acquire a portkey, before the streets became too darkened and unsafe to travel. As much as she hated to admit it, she feared to venture out into the night alone. Owning to one reason, and one reason only--Lord Voldemort. She was no exception to his wrath, especially being of muggle descent. Deatheaters seemed to be lurking everywhere these days; daylight or dawn they remained an imposing threat to society. They were feared enough to do as they pleased without serious repercussion, though appeared to be focusing the majority of their attacks on muggles; according to an article she read in the _Daily Prophet. _

Quickly emerging from the post office, Claira approached Padfoot with a tender smile, while her hand tightly secured a small scroll that would act as the portkey to her desired location--London. She had only five minutes before it activated. And with very little time to spare, she crouched down on her knees, and gave Padfoot a gentle squeeze around the middle.

"Will you wait for me? I really don't fancy a walk back to the castle alone. I'll only be gone a short while, I promise," she whispered softly in his ear, before tenderly kissing his snout in appreciation.

Staring into her beautiful blue eyes, Sirius silently communicated that he would wait for her--till the end of time, if need be. He loved Claira. And would sooner be damned before he let anything bad happen to her. If only she knew how deeply he felt, what hell he would go through to earn her adoration. He tried to convey this to her as well, but Claira did not understand. She merely rose to her feet, unrolled the scroll, and then vanished into thin air. 

The London streets were much darker and deserted than Claira had originally anticipated. With the muggle shops preparing to close for the evening, she had only a limited amount of time to search out Professor Snape's gift; which happened to be the most important one of all. Squinting her eyes in hopes that it would enable her to see better, Claira quickly crossed the square and entered a small establishment labeled, "Electronics Boutique."

  
  
**Meanwhile....**

  
  
Wiping away the shallow pool of sweat residing just above his brow, Severus meticulously stirred his brew, while bringing its coarse boil down to a soft, bubbling simmer. His back ached profusely, owing to the many hours spent inclined over his cauldron. And his hands were utterly exhausted, due to the strenuous effort it takes to wield the craft of consistency and precision; a most critical skill for one who chooses to delve in the subtle science and exact art that is potion making... How many bloody times has he recited that ridiculous line? His tongue, has definitely worn out its welcomed use of that depleted phrase. Next term, he vowed to present the first years with an entirely new delineation of the glorified sort.

For the most part, his draft was complete. A couple days of required maturation, and the occasional stir from his ladle, was the only attention he need apply. Which allotted him a few spare hours to tackle the mountainous stack of essays cluttering his desk. 

Tossing his heavy, black cloak over his shoulders, Severus dimmed the torchlights, before proceeding to exit his laboratory. Tugging the door open, he was abruptly greeted by of pair of mischievous, hazel-colored eyes. The woman, from whom they belonged to, quickly dropped her hands, indicating a discreet action that she had not intended him to witness. Lazily, his gaze fell to her bodice, where a few strings of lace had been purposely loosened to display the soft round curves of her breasts. His stare lingered there momentarily, before cascaded back up to the amused expression on her face.

"I don't suppose, Miss Silverstone, that you have an adequate enough excuse that would explain your reasoning for lagging outside my door? Certainly you can find a more appropriate way of harboring your time?" Severus issued shortly, his annoyance dominating all previous surprise.

"Cute. I'm here by assignment, actually--not that your dazzling charm isn't incentive enough. What woman could possibly resist?" She mouthed mockingly, while taking an unwelcome step over the threshold.

Severus quickly drew up his arm to block her way. And resting a guarded hand upon the marble arch, he purposely adjusted his stance to ward off any further attempts of intrusion. 

"I can assure you, there is nothing hidden behind these walls that you need concern yourself with," he asserted shrewdly, raising his caped arm higher to shield her view; she was trying her best to steal a peek over his shoulder. "Might I remind you, my private dwellings are off-limits, to all. Meddlesome staff members, such as yourself, are of no exception." 

" Is that so? Well, my dear Sevy, from what I've gathered, _Charlotte_ has been frequenting your 'private dwellings' for quite some time now. So, perhaps there _ARE_ exceptions to your little decretum after all. Care to explain?" Teresa spat back, her lip tightly curled up in jealousy. 

Her afternoon visits to the staff room, had earned her many a rumor about Severus and that skinny, little mediwitch twit; it appears they have become quite close over the past few months of her absence. Had she known this sooner, she never would have granted him so much space to sort out his feelings. Thinking he only needed time to adjust, Teresa had kept her distance, passing along suggestive winks and flirtatious innuendos to help guide his decision. An obvious error on her part, one that she had full intentions of rectifying upon the first given opportunity.

"It's Claira," Severus corrected. "And again, any and all activities that I choose to conduct within the privacy of my chambers, and with whom, are neither your concern, nor business," he ended sharply, while ushering her further back out into the passageway. After which, he promptly snapped the door shut, and placed upon it an unbreakable locking charm that only his wand could counter. 

"Assuming I have successfully bored you of prying, do enlighten me as to why I am being sought after. I'm quite busy at the moment, mind you, and haven't the time, nor tolerance for guessing games," Severus added coolly, while placing his hand upon the small of her back in an effort to lure her away from his laboratory.

Teresa's demeanor carried on, unscathed, by his derogatory comments. He had fed her plenty of them throughout their schooling and professional years. They no longer held any lasting affect on her; blank bullets as they were. However, what she was not accustomed to was the tender way his hand perused her back while escorting her down the hallway, almost gentleman-like. Was this just a clever distraction to divert her attention elsewhere? Or had he finally come to realize the full potential her body has to offer? Perhaps it was simply a primal reaction to the stunning visual she was allowing him of her breasts. Either way, it showed promise on his part, and she would definitely be taking advantage of it. She _WILL_ have him; make no mistake about that!

"I was sent by Dumbledore; if you must know. Though only to inform you that Lupin and Moody have arrived, and are _extremely_ eager to share their tale of triumph over an intercepted deatheater attack," she answered with a slight smirk, knowing that Severus would take great pleasure in hearing their overly exaggerated account of heroism.

"Come to gloat, have they?" Severus asserted with an amused scowl. Perhaps the work in his study could be postponed long enough to endure a bit of nightly entertainment; however ridiculous, as it most certainly will be.

So they walked on. And as the damp tunnel's light dimmed to a mysterious glow of shadows, Teresa seized the darkened moment to turn on Severus, her body moving only inches from his....

"Shall we proceed?" Her voice suddenly shifted from its echoing, high pitch, to a low, seductive base tone. At the same time, her fingers slowly, suggestively, traced the row of buttons lining his vest. "Or have you more _impressive_ plans for the evening?" 

As she spoke, her hands continued to venture down his outer garments, until the fabric ended and his belt buckle began. Here, they lingered, just at the base of his zipper, while her eyes scanned his features for any sign of acceptance. His gaze kept drifting towards the exposed flesh of her cleavage, then back up to her face as if contemplating some secret strategy. Or was it an inner struggle? Just how _CLOSE _had he and that little mudblood bitch become?

"Has Albus called an Order meeting? Or am I to believe this whole _charade_ is done over on my account?" Severus questioned collectively, though uncertain whether or not he was actually enjoying the soft swirls her fingers were performing at the front of his trousers. The slight stir in his boxers, which had steadily been provoked by her touch, gave hint that he must be. Teresa had never been one to tease; her legs spread far too freely to bother. Unlike Claira, whose virgin thighs appeared to be locked shut without the courtesy of a key. He had grown quite angry with the girl over her abrupt dismissal. Not to mention, the humiliation of it all. Further more, she had conjured such a monstrous frustration in his pants, that even Teresa's proposal was a tempting release.

"Everyone is already present in Dumbledore's office; it seems you have been rather 'out of the loop,' as of late. Now, the way I see it, we can either attend that dreadful meeting, or carry on to your study. Where, you and I can hold a private discussion of our own," she boldly suggested, while sliding her hips across the hardened bulge her prowling fingers had instigated. Tilting her head, she licked her lips, and parted them slightly-- inviting a kiss, and so much more.

With a self-loathing sigh, and tainted hand of desperation, Severus roughly pulled her body close, unable to douse the spark of fire that had ignited within his loins. Pleasuring himself, thus far, had only rewarded him temporary relief of this frequented occurrence. He was LONG overdo for a proper shagging. And temptation be it, the opportunity to receive one, was only ten paces away from his study door. So it was, with feeble resistance, that Severus lowered his mouth to hers, his mind blindly switching from thought to raw instinct.... 

However, his head immediately whipped back the moment his tongue tasted her soured lips; it was so that he nearly spat in disgust at her vile flavor. Delectable as Teresa's appearance may be, inside, her soul bore the rotten pit of a whore. She was a devoured fruit, laid to waste by the abundance of voracious scavengers that had plucked her spoil before him. Since when has a woman of her savor ever repelled his appetite? He has feasted upon nothing but. And yet now, with one sampling of Claira's sweet nectar, her pristine lips and untapped body, nigh ripe for the taking, he would sooner starve than indulge himself in anything of lesser quality. 

He has become frightfully obsessed with his endeavor to claim her virginity; depraved as it were. It was Claira's chastity that he craved. It was_ her_ purity, _her_ innocence that has seduced his mind with the very insanity of desire. His thoughts, his dreams, were all corrupted by her delicious smile, by her alluring stare, and the enchanting warmth of her embrace; it was these invisible amenities that disturbed him the most. Bewitched was he, better yet, completely and lustfully damned by the devil girl.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Severus found himself glaring bitterly into Teresa's expectant eyes; she hadn't recognized his sudden repulsion. Either that, or she simply refused to acknowledge it. He must tread carefully, however. One slip from her spiteful tongue at the Yule Ball, and she could very well ruin his chances of gaining rank amongst the Ministry. It was his future career that deserved top priority, even more so than his sexual ambitions. 

Fighting off a nauseated sneer, Severus tenderly brushed his fingers across her cheek and whispered,

"As I am certain that everyone is awaiting our arrival, we will attend the meeting; regrettably, of course. Perhaps we can continue this private...engagement," he paused briefly, falsely tracing the contours of her lips. "At a more appropriate time."

"As you wish, " Teresa muttered softly in disappointment, though utterly ecstatic about his newfound appreciation for her.

Extending his arm in a cordial fashion, Severus gently tucked hers beneath, and then proceeded to escort her to Dumbledore's office; however despising the narcistic grin embedded upon her silly face each and every step of the way. 

  
  


=======@======@======@======@======@======@=======

  
  
Just as he had anticipated, Remus and Alastor had made right fools of themselves in front of the entire Order assembly. Their farcical narration of the events that had transpired earlier that evening, were droll enough without the dramatic tirade of physical reenactments they performed on each other; as well as selected participants from the audience. Moody, had taken one too many swigs from his whiskey flask that night, this he was certain of. Remus as well, evident by the potent stench of liquor fuming from his breath and clothing--_idiots, the both of them_. Had he been properly informed of their current state of drunkenness, he might have brewed a sobering potion to accommodate the situation; then again, probably not. Watching the two of them make complete arses out of themselves, was far too entertaining a plight to pass up. _Morons._ Three sloshed deatheaters in a pub, _aspiring_ ones at that, hardly justified the makings of a dark revel. So they saved a possible rape victim, or rather, _'Snatched the girl right out of their clutches,'_ as Remus so pretentiously illustrated. What of it? They should visit the cellar of Macnair's mansion sometime. 

Lounging back in his armchair, Severus folded his hands behind his neck, and casually waited for the crowd of snickering witches and wizards to shuffle through the door, before attempting to exit himself. He was in no hurry to return to the dungeons; where he was destined to spend the evening hunched over a stack of scribbled rubbish. Thoughtless words they be, compiled to form an appearance of the assigned essay, but in essence, were really just wrinkled scrolls full of insufferable stupidity. Well, tonight, his quill hand will not be practicing the loop of leniency. Slytherins aside, those incorrigible little prats will get precisely the markings they deserve.

Rising from seat, Severus slowly worked his way to the door; secretly hoping Dumbledore would notice his lingering presence and invite him back for a chat. At this point, he would accept any silly excuse to stall time. However, Albus was already engaged in an intimate looking conversation with Minerva, far too enthralled to pay him any mind. _Dammit._ He had no other choice but to honor his obligations as a professor; though painstakingly boring as they prove to be at times.

Ducking under the archway and rounding the spiraling staircase, Severus lazily stepped between the two gargoyle statues just in time to hear Remus shout,

" CLAIRA! How are you, love? This is quite the pleasant surprise! I hadn't expected to see me...you, I mean. Forgive me for tripping over my tongue, but you do look gorgeous tonight."

Severus immediately tore his eyes in their direction, all too eager to see the girl after six excruciatingly long days of separation. Her absence did nothing to void his mind of her memory, her beauty... her fire. His thoughts were forever plagued with these uninvited images. _Damn her._ There she was, her chestnut hair slightly tousled, her paled cheeks, wind burnt and tainted by the outside elements. Muggle jeans hugged her thighs and hips tightly, as her sweater did the same for her breasts; they were perfectly rounded and sized for fondling. Claira did look gorgeous, he agreed. She also looked as though she was just coming back from a long trip away from Hogwarts. _What the devil was she doing out at this hour? _Not that he cared. Concerned, maybe. It was dangerous for her to venture out alone. _Ah, but she was not alone, was she?_ His eyes instantly narrowed into slits as he watched Padfoot veer around the corner, trotting merrily behind her with his tongue lopping out of his snout._ Pathetic bastard._ Didn't he realize how ridiculous he looked following Claira about wherever she goes, stalking her, like some sex depraved fool? Then again, if the boot fits....

Propping his arm up against one of the nearby statues, Severus sneered on, while Claira greeted Remus with a warm, comely smile. His blood instantly began to curdle as he watched his opponent lean in for a kiss... only to have her shy away just in time to avoid contact with his lips. He kissed her cheek instead. The girl was far too polite to correct these obnoxious charges of his-- which suspiciously were uncharacteristic of Lupin to practice in the first place. Something very queer was going on. And he had no doubt in his mind that Sirius was somehow involved. 

Distance combined with hushed speech, made it difficult to listen in on their conversation. Lingering disturbances, such as the corridor's loud echo of occasional laughter, proved it damn near impossible. So he observed their body language instead, peering over pointed hats and frizzy hair, his jealousy forsaking any anger he may once have held for the girl. 

Suddenly, without warning, blazing blue eyes met those of arctic black. 

Claira's body immediately experienced an explosive shiver of lust, as she caught sight of Severus, his magnificent form leaning handsomely against one of the large gargoyle statues guarding Dumbledore's office. His stare was so dark, so hypnotic, so penetrating that it pierced straight through to her very soul. Shrouds of black robes only fit to enhance his masculine profile--strong, powerful, intimidating. Remus' words quickly faded to a soft, distant murmur as she watched Severus watch her, his silent seduction causing her heart to melt like an ice cube to a scorching flame. Never before has she desired a man so deeply, so desperately. He did things to her. Things that made her cheeks blush fire. She could feel the heat burning down her face, her breasts, and her thighs...All ignited by his presence. 

So consumed by the moment, Claira hardly noticed the loud squeals and fleeting bodies around her, until one of them nearly knocked her over in a mad rush to vacate the corridor. _What in the world was going on?_ Glancing around, she watched fearfully as everyone scattered about in a right state of panic. She had only seen this happen once before, when one of those crazy little mistletoe chasers floated into the Great Hall--Oh no! Spinning around, Claira's eyes widened in terror as one came speeding her way. In the next instant, it was hovering over her head, its leaves swaying and flapping menacingly. Oh gods, it had selected her! Only moments later, she heard a cluster of short, amused snickers, followed by a polite cough designed to draw her attention back to Remus; who was grinning devilishly and puckering his lips in preparation for a kiss. 

"If I may," he offered kindly, while stepping in closer for better access to her lips.

Leaning forward, he tilted his head, his lips parting slightly as they neared their target. Claira's eyes immediately widened in horror at the sight of his tongue slipping out; it was intending to participate. He was going to give her an opened mouth kiss! She couldn't recall ever seeing him act this _friendly_ with any of the other female staff members. Why her? Has she given him some cause to think that she wanted this sort of intimacy from him? _NO_, she hasn't. Come to think of it, he did smell like an uncorked bottle of fire whiskey; perhaps this was his persuasion. Either way, she was not about to let him kiss her in such a fashion. Drunk or not, he was out of line. 

Just as she was about to pull away, protest... do _something_, a strong arm suddenly clamped around her waist, possessively drawing her back against a large, solid chest heaving with fury. 

"I do believe Miss Bell is growing quite weary of your unsought advances, Remus... _As am I_," Severus warned with a threatening sneer, his tone low and thunderous.

Claira's body instantly began to quiver at the sound of Professor Snape's voice in her ear, so powerful, so deep... so frightfully sexy. His heated breath warmed her temple, while long strands of raven hair lightly brushed across her cheek and neck. The enticing scent of fresh herbs and musk filled her lungs, intoxicating her mind, as well as her heart. _Merlin! _She was so aroused, both inside and out. His weeklong absence had only caused her body to crave his company more. He was like a dangerous drug, addictive and lethal to all inner thoughts of chastity. 

Claira could faintly hear Padfoot beside them, growling viciously, but took no mind. She was too distracted by Severus' hands smoothing over her hips, spinning her body around to face him.

Capturing her chin between his masterful fingers, Severus stole one final glance around the corridor, to make certain that no one but the intended where watching, before tilting Claira's mouth to his. He then claimed her maiden lips in a territorial display of ownership. It was a purposeful act, devised only to show Lupin, and Black, that the girl belonged to him--perhaps not completely, but soon, very soon. In his bed, beneath his sheets, he _WILL_ have her...Make no mistake.

Parting her lips, Claira aggressively wrapped her arms around his neck, greeting his tongue with a slow wet swirl. Her hips eagerly sought further attention as she arched into his groin, her breath catching softly, favorably, at the already hardened bulge that resided there. _'Naughty little girl!'_ Severus thought wickedly to himself, as he drew her needy body close. He was fairly astounded by her boldness to perform such a lecherous act in front of an audience. _All the better._ Let those covetous bastards see how smitten she is with him, how submissive he can wield her with the slightest touch. So he hasn't fully persuaded her legs to spread for him yet, no matter. Let them think it. He will have her thighs parted soon enough; he was now convinced. 

Remus could hardly believe his eyes. Cloudy as they were from the abundance of alcohol that he had consumed in celebration earlier, which he must rightfully admit his error in doing so, the shocking vision before him actually looked quite real. Good god, how could a beautiful young woman such as she, ever take interest in that ugly, hooked-nose prick? Thinking back, not once had he ever known the man to hold a girlfriend; well, not one he hadn't paid for anyway. And just look at the randy way the two were carrying on, slobbering all over each other, lips smacking, mouths slurping--simply disgusting! He didn't even want to think about the horrendous happenings that might be going on beneath those shifting robes; thank Merlin Snape's cloak was blocking his view. Partially drunk as he may be, he could still accurately determine that it was _not_ their first attempt at this sort of exchange. Misinformed, would be a proper explanation for his current state of confusion. Sirius had wrongfully misled him to believe that the girl was repulsed by the man's very existence. Apparently not! 

Furrowing his brows, Remus shot Padfoot an accusing glare, only to discover the dog ferociously trembling and snarling with rage. His private scolding will have to come at a later time; right now, he had to stop the poor bloke before he did something insanely stupid. But, before he even had the chance to take his first step, Padfoot had already lunged at Severus; teeth bared, and mind completely lost in a dangerous smog of jealousy.

Generous were Claira's fervent lips; so hot, so moist, so magically delicious that Severus nearly lost sight of his initial goal. Not an uncommon occurrence, he found, whilst in her distractive presence. And greedy as his own mouth proved, he began to milk her kiss for the whole it offered, for all it's given worth. 

Priceless.

The girl was well aroused, he could tell, her body did little to hide its quaking excitement; he could dine on her tonight, this he was certain of. Right now, right here in this very hallway, he may take her, to hell with who was watching. His body was just as disturbed, just as wanting, just as ready to end this foolish game as she. They both were willing participants..._ so why not indulge themselves?_

Severus' mouth tasted of cinnamon, Claira mused, as her tongue licked and flirted with his. So enthralled in the moment, in his tight embrace, that she completely lost track of where she was, who might be witnessing her salacious behavior. Did she even care? When in his arms, nothing seemed to matter. She has gone far too long without the warmth of his kiss, the intimacy of his touch--to worry with proper conduct. Her thoughts and actions were corrupted, sinfully influenced by this God forsaken man. He was cruel, selfish, arrogant, obnoxiously honest with his words... everything opposite of herself. _She would have him no other way._ This was the snare of his charm, what she guiltily desired and found most attractive about him. He was so wrong for her. And yet, felt so perfectly right. It was a twisted irony that could never be unraveled, nor explained. He just might be the one, she realized. The one she might finally lose herself to. The idea was so tempting, so intriguing. Just maybe....

All thoughts were suddenly dismissed, as Severus abruptly tore his mouth from Claira's. Throwing his head back, he let out a great cry of anguish, while clenching his teeth in a feeble attempt to mask his pain. Clamped tightly around the calf of his right leg, was a set of monstrously, powerful jaws; they were ripping and tearing at his flesh in a savage effort to draw blood. Wheeling around in his own seething rage, Severus quickly raised his arm to shield Claira from a possible attack, as his gaze dropped to the very source of his malady.

PADFOOT!

His eyes instantly turned black and murderous, as he kicked at the beastly dog to release his hold. A sharp blow to the ribs, immediately brought Sirius back to his senses... though just long enough to unlatch his teeth and ready himself for a second attack; perhaps he'll go for the bastard's throat this time! Arching his back, he made for the lung, but quickly retracted his move when Snape's wand came into view.

"You pathetic son of a bitch! Only a true coward would attack his enemy whilst their back is turned. And then, be stupid enough to not even make it worth the effort. That was a most critical error on your part. One, that you will pay dearly for, I assure you," Severus spoke coldly, his grave tone causing Claira to back away with a sudden shiver of fright.

As Severus raised his wand, Sirius tore off down the corridor; he was no fool. He knew better than to challenge Snape is his dog form, unarmed, and without any means of defense. His only hope was to escape safely around the corner before the first curse could be cast; the man had impeccable aim. Behind him, he could faintly hear Claira cry,

"Severus, please don't! You'll hurt him!"

Severus lowered his wand, but only slightly. It was unnerving to think that Claira actually felt sympathy for that bastard, when _he_ was the one whose leg lie bleeding. How inconsiderate of the girl to make such a plea, even if she was unacquainted with Padfoot's true identity--this only proved to enrage him further. Her loyalties lay not with him. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted his wand and hissed,

"_INCENDIO INFLAMENTA_!"

An explosive series of sparks and flames hurled from the tip of his wand, streaming down the hallway after Padfoot--but missed. The curse scorched the surrounding walls instead, leaving a blackened imprint of his anger on all that it came in contact with. The casting flaw was due to Remus, who had grabbed his wrist just in time to skew his aim off course. _Prick!_ Severus quickly snatched his arm from the other man's grasp, but not before appointing him a forceful shove in the chest; which sent him tripping backwards against the stone slab. 

Remus, wholly embarrassed, glanced over at Claira, who was staring back at him with her mouth agape, and eyes wide open with shock. Although he did not possess any true feelings for the girl, he was not about to let himself be made a fool of in front of her; he still had his pride. Testosterone and alcohol blurring his better sense, Lupin immediately retrieved his wand, and readied himself for a fight.

A duel with Remus was not exactly the sort of festivities Severus had planned to embark upon this evening. However, if the man insisted on making a mockery of his self, so be it. _'Who am I to argue?' _Severus mused, while lazily lifted his wand in defense.

"Must I be surrounded by idiots? You know as well as I do, Remus, that your combat skills are rudimentary; even sober, you lack the proper talent to challenge my hand. Now, put that silly toy away before you hurt yourself," Severus stated smugly, knowing Lupin wouldn't dare follow through with his ridiculous attempt to best him.

Or perhaps he would. 

A green beam of light suddenly shot from the end of his wand, however weak and thoroughly unstable; the uncanny effects of spell casting whilst heavily inebriated. Growling deeply in aggravation, Severus quickly countered it with a blocking charm, while muttering silent curses to himself. He then drew his own arm back and spat,

"_STUPE_--"

"SEVERUS!" Interrupted a loud, reprimanding voice that was all too familiar. "CONTROL YOURSELF AT ONCE."

Severus immediately spun on his heel to face the Headmaster, who was currently glaring back at him with an angry glint in his eye. Tucking his wand away, he shamefully furrowed his brows, while waiting for Lupin's scolding to begin. But he already knew, deep down, that it would never come; the adorned fur ball could do no wrong. Albus had always taken the gryffindor's side over his own. As it is, there was no other being alive, whose approval and opinion he valued more than Dumbledore's. However, to him, he will always be friended second. _Gold bested silver every bloody time._

"Severus, I would like to think that after all these years, after all we have shared and experienced together, that you could learn to set your differences aside--if only for one evening."

Severus made to respond, but quickly bit back his tongue; he knew nothing good would come of it. Besides, there really was no point in defending his innocence; deaf ears were the only pair listening here. 

"I will speak with you _privately_ in my office. Perhaps when you're ready to discuss these matters further," Albus demanded sternly, knowing all too well that he will not see his Potions Master before noon tomorrow; nightfall even, before the man's temper finally subsides.

Casting a sore scowl at Dumbledore, then a loathsome sneer at Remus, Severus quietly turned away and made for the private sanctum of his dungeons. 

Claira, still stunned by the events that had just transpired, silently watched Professor Snape limp down the corridor; his robes were leaking small droplets of blood with each step. Tearing her eyes away, she quickly glanced over at Dumbledore, who had his hand laid upon Lupin's shoulder, while he whispering some secret word of comfort. She instantly felt the heat rise in her chest, the boiling brew of anger, caused by the injustice of it all. _Remus was no innocent victim here! _In fact, HE was the one who began the whole silly bout by attempting to assault her mouth with his tongue. Severus was merely protecting her, as was Padfoot. She had always thought Albus to be fair and just, but after witnessing his inequitable actions tonight, no longer will she hold him in quite so high an honor. Shooting the two men a disapproving glare, she quickly rushed to find Severus; his injury required immediate attention.

The corridor darkened with each hurried step, as the torchlights dulled their flames for the evening. Rounding the corner, Claira caught a glimpse of Professor Snape's billowing cloak, and immediately called out to him. He paused briefly, but did not speak, nor did he turn to acknowledge her. Slowing her run to a swift walk, she quickly approached his towering form, chanting his name once again, while placing her hand upon his arm. He immediately snatched it away from her.

"Severus, please. Your leg, it needs tending to," Claira whispered softly, pleadingly.

"You needn't bother," he snapped, suddenly whirling about to glare down at her through cold, menacing eyes. "I can mend the wretched wound myself. You may think me incompetent, Miss Bell, but I assure you, I have corrected far worse travesties than a petty dog nip. So save your girlish worry and silly bandages for some other mollycoddle; I have no use, or desire, for either."

He took perverse delight in watching her body wither beneath his words. They were spoken callously, used as implements, to evoke harm. He was angry with her. No, furious! _SHE_ was to blame for his boorish behavior this evening. The girl had far too powerful an influence over his actions; far more than he cared to allow, or admit for that matter. His directives were flawed, misguided, disrupted by her silly little enchantment. Damn her. And damn that soft quivering lip, moist and swollen, beckoning a kiss of apology; he care not for it, nor was he willing to oblige its request. 

"Perhaps if you would of proven yourself capable of avoiding such atrocities, I would not have to involve myself to begin with. Hence, incurring all this aggravation," Severus added accusingly, as he held her fully accountable...for everything.

"I didn't ask for your help tonight, Professor. It was you who chose to play hero. I could have handled myself just fine,_ without_ you," Claira expired in defense, while fighting back the tears that threatened to flood her cheeks. He was intending to hurt her. And he was successful, but she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply his wounds cut.

"Is that so?" He challenged hotly, before forcefully pulling her body against his in a crude act of domination. "I beg to differ. You see, I think you lack the proper courage. Let's test that theory, shall we?" His icy hiss echoed down the corridor, as presumptuous fingers snaked beneath her sweater, groping at her vulnerable breasts in a heinous attempt to prove his point. His touch was anything but gentle, as he prodded and pinched her nipples, causing them to become erect and sore.

Letting out a small whimper of pain, Claira immediately smacked his hand away, appalled by his sudden show of cruelty and disrespect. What happened to the man, who only moments before, had tenderly held her and kissed her passionately? She was so confused, so lost within her thoughts, now baffled and molested. _She needed to get away._ Freeing herself from his brutish embrace, Claira spun around and made for her escape--only to have Severus snatch her arm and roughly draw her back. She weakly pounded her fists against his chest as he crushed his body against hers once again. Catching her wrists, he pinned her back to the wall, using his overpowering strength to hold her prisoner.

"_Bastard_," she whispered hurtfully, as he pressed his steel erection against her abdomen; he was obviously taking great pleasure in causing her pain. Hot, panting breath steamed her face, scorching her skin, and inflaming her thighs. In his eyes, she could see nothing but darkness, a veiled evil that she had not thought him capable of. And it frightened her. Yet, aroused her at the same time; never before has she felt so ashamed.

"Am I? I warned you of the poor company you keep. Did I not? Yet you still chose to associate yourself with that riffraff, despite my offered word of caution. You should be more grateful to me, Claira. I do not often make such sacrifices as this, nor do I waste my concern over thankless hussies; especially ones who prove themselves more trouble than their worth," Severus growled banefully, his mouth brushing across her parted lips with each spoken word. He was degrading her, not just verbally, but physically as well. 

The tears, no longer able to be suppressed, streamed swiftly down her cheeks. Slamming her eyes shut, Claira immediately turned her face away, hoping he wouldn't see. She truly was weak. He was right, about everything. And the way he spoke, with such confidence, such certitude, that even she was beginning to believe. She really was a coward, a helpless bother...worthless.

Severus silently watched Claira's soul break; like the taming of a wild stallion, he now held tight keep on her reigns. Gripping her chin, he forced her gaze back upon him, determined to milk every last drop of dignity she possessed. It was to be her punishment, for causing him to lose control over himself, for the humiliation he suffered under Dumbledore's scolding, for all the wrong in his life... And for being the only thing in it, that ever felt_ right._

_Dear Merlin._

His body immediately froze, his breathing stopped, at the sudden realization of what he was actually doing to her, and himself. Blinking his eyes in an attempt to clear his tempered vision, Severus focused his gaze back upon the frail woman in his arms, now trembling and weeping under his wrath. _What has he done? _An intense, harrowing pain suddenly erupted in his chest, as Claira's fallen tears trickled down to his fingertips. It was not an unfamiliar emotion, but certainly one that did not frequent him often. Remorse. 

Severus' features instantly softened, while his thumb moved to wipe her sodden cheeks. Leaning forward, he tenderly kissed her swollen eyelids, tasting the salty pain that he had caused with his carelessness; never again will he force his hand upon her. Lowering his mouth further, he quietly whispered his apology against her lips, before claiming them as proof of his sincerity. Her body suddenly stiffened against his, but relaxed as he folded his arms around her. And what a strange sensation it was, to hold her so close without sexual purpose; he had never experienced anything like it before.... It was, by far, the most intimate embrace he had ever engaged in.

Unable to speak, Claira laid her head upon his shoulder, pressing her body into the warmth and comfort he now offered. Silently, she sobbed, wishing tonight had never been. Severus had shown her a different side of himself, a wicked side that she did not care to know, or ever see again. It was the deatheater within him; the diablerie that he once practiced, enforced, thrived upon. _Which was his true self?_ She had to know, her heart had to know, and only time would tell her the answer.


	28. Unexpected Happenings

  
  
**Please Review!**

  
  
**Here's a quick reminder of where we last left off....**

_His body immediately froze, his breathing stopped, at the sudden realization of what he was actually doing to her, and himself. Blinking his eyes in an attempt to clear his tempered vision, Severus focused his gaze back upon the frail woman in his arms, now trembling and weeping under his wrath. What has he done? An intense, harrowing pain suddenly erupted in his chest, as Claira's fallen tears trickled down to his fingertips. It was not an unfamiliar emotion, but certainly one that did not frequent him often. Remorse._

His harsh features instantly softened, while his thumb moved to wipe her sodden cheeks. Leaning forward, Severus tenderly kissed her swollen eyelids, tasting the salty pain he had caused with his carelessness; never again will he force his hand upon her. Lowering his mouth further, he quietly whispered his apology against her lips, before claiming them as proof of his sincerity. Her body suddenly stiffened as he did so, but relaxed as he folded his arms around her. It was a strange sensation, to hold her so close without sexual purpose. It was, by far, the most intimate embrace he had ever engaged in. 

Unable to speak, Claira laid her head upon his shoulder, pressing her body into the warmth and comfort he now offered. Silently she sobbed, wishing tonight had never been. Severus had shown her a different side of himself, a wicked side that she did not care to know, or ever see again. It was the deatheater within him; the diablerie that he once practiced, enforced, thrived upon. Which was his true self? She had to know, her heart had to know, and only time could tell her the answer. 

Chapter: 28

  
  


** Unexpected Happenings**

  
  


Try as she might, Claira could not convince her eyes to rest. Around her chambers they roamed, tracing the narrow crevices in the ceiling above, following the ballet of dancing shadows, spinning and twirling upon their stonewall stage. Slowly, her dreary gaze drifted towards the window. Through the white winter haze, she could just make out December's midnight stars, its crescent moon, shining like a beacon amidst the cold dark morrow. Beneath the thick layer of sheets dressing her bed, Claira's body shivered. Her breath exhaled weakly, keeping close rhythm to the fragile beat of her aching heart._ How could Severus be so cruel to her? So uncaring_? His hurtful words looped circles in her mind. All the places his coarse fingers had been, throbbed painfully, in torturous reminder of his brutality. She should have nothing further to do with him. He was dangerous. Frightfully unstable. _What secret evil lay hidden within the depths of his cavernous heart? Should she even dare seek it out?_

Turning to her nightstand, Claira instinctually reached for the drawer handle, and gave it a light tug. Slipping her hand inside, she carefully worked the aged box lid open and withdrew the rose Severus had gifted her the month before. Tenderly placing it on the pillow beside her, she gently caressed its petals and stared onto its beauty, eyes full of deep contemplation. _Was this not a symbol of possible affections? A small token of kindness? Perhaps even a promise that there was still some good left within his blackened heart? _What if she were to find its source of light, persuade it forth, so that it overpowered the darkness? It was there; she had seen it before. Its radiance shone brightly amongst their first shared kiss. It had torched her very heart, that night in the infirmary, when he held her so close in his arms. She could feel it, each and every time he pulled her into the glow of his embrace--its brilliance warmed her body with such intensity, that it set the inner sanctums of her soul ablaze. Yes, the light was definitely there. If only she could draw it out... she could change him, mold him into the man she knew he could be, the man she so desperately wanted--And God, how she wanted him. Her feelings for Severus far surpassed the primal stages of infatuation; she knew this now. No longer could she deny the love she felt for him. The very power of it consumed the entirety of her thoughts, her dreams. It was this same, overwhelming feeling that prompted her womanly conquest, her search for the light that only faith, patience, and love could ever achieve.

Lowering her head to the pillow, Claira closed her eyes and welcomed the holy graces of sleep; heaven only knows of the peril, and hardship, the new day's dawn will bring.... 

Claira awoke the next morning to a lovely floral fragrance. Smiling at its pleasantry, she opened her eyes, greeted by soft, scarlet petals. The rose, still lie on her pillow, in the exact same condition in which she had left it the night before. Perfect. As always, its beauty was everlasting. 

Slowly sitting up, she lazily glanced around the room. Through the thin cloud of mist of her breath, she could see that the fire was doused, and there was an icy chill in the air. _Perhaps it was safe to assume that winter has finally come? _Quickly darting her eyes toward the window, she gasped, then flew from her bed to get a better view. Her windowpane, the once lush green grass, the treetops, and mountain peaks, were all glistened with.... SNOW! Giggling in excitement, Claira rushed over to her wardrobe and tore through her clothing collection to find the proper "snow frolicking" attire. Snatching out a pair of thick blue jeans and red knit sweater, she hastily dressed, paid a short visit to her bathroom, and then dashed out the door. 

Through the double doors leading to the castle grounds, she sped. Racing down the large marble steps, Claira clumsily tripped over her own footing, and dove face first into a huge pile of cold, wet snow. Snorting with laughter, she flapped her arms and legs out, gifting the frozen earth with a perfectly sculpted snow angel. Afterwards, she rose to her feet and slowly brushed herself off, while gawking in awe at her gorgeous surroundings. The world around her was beautifully gowned in gleaming, white dressings. Spectacular, could not even begin to describe the amazing visual painted before her. Young children, decked in colorful scarves and mittens, danced joyously about--the wonderful feeling of Christmas was finally upon them. 

With a wide grin stricken across her cheeks, Claira withdrew her wand, charmed her body with a warming spell, then quickly set off to join a few of the students in a friendly game of snowball. She chose to side with Gryffindor, whom, kindly accepted her into their battle fold. And soon, she was engaged in a most thrilling war of House rivalry. 

Ducking behind a small boulder, Claira successfully dogged a pummeling snowball to her head, scooped up a healthy chunk of ammo, and then threw it "grenade-style" at the opposing force. Daring a peak, she witnessed her snowball strike one of the Slytherin foes directly in the face-- he shouldn't have looked up just then, foolish boy! Snickering in triumph, she made to collect another round, when a slight movement to her right caught her attention. 

Glancing over, Claira immediately froze still. Her heart began to flutter violently in her chest at the stunning visual of Professor Snape exiting the greenhouse. His long, black robes and raven-colored hair greatly contrasted their winter surroundings, accentuating his already dominate form;_ simply breathtaking. _In his arms, he held an abundance of tiny green boxes, all containing potion ingredients, no doubt. Did the man ever stop working? He truly needed to relax, take a break--have a little fun! A wicked smirk suddenly pierced Claira's lips. Abandoning her post, she quickly snuck off across the field, appointing herself a new target to pelt... the sexy Head of Slytherin!

  
**Meanwhile....**

Severus sneered his way across the snow-covered meadow. The very sound of laughter and cheer, made his stomach churn in disgust; far too many memories of humiliation, and embarrassment, surrounded this detestable season. Scowling down at the mockery earth, he purposely stomped on a lonely winter flower, crushing its delicate petals beneath the heel of his boot, before continuing on his journey towards Hogwarts castle. When suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a large snowball whizzed past his left ear, grazing the very tip of it with icy slosh. 

Whipping around, Severus glared angrily into the deserted field beyond. The students, all appeared to be at a distance, proving it impossible for their aim to extend past Hagrid's hut. Darting his eyes about suspiciously, he carried on, grumbling every private slur and foul name his tongue could fathom. 

A few moments later, another snowball was sent wheeling his way; this time, hitting him on the back of the head with a loud, wet splatter. The force of it caused him to drop his bundle, spilling the plants he collected onto the sodden ground below. Spitting mad curses, he knelt down and quickly captured the escaping bowtruckles, which were all attempting to flee towards the safety of the Dark Forest. Shoving them back into their caged boxes, he promptly sealed the lids shut, while his already seething temper flared into a raging bonfire. 

Standing, Severus furiously spun on his heel, moistening his lips in preparation for the lifelong detention he was about to bestow upon the little bastard who caused him all this aggravation; accident or not!

Claira giggled impishly, as she ran and ducked for cover behind a large willow tree. Its enormous trunk, generously shielded her from view, which she used to her full advantage to keep herself hidden. Scooping up another snowball, she quietly snuck around the bark, peeking through its thick branches in order to spy on Severus. That's when her heart suddenly dropped. And her eyes widened in disbelief as she discovered him gone. Creeping out further, she tore her gaze around the vacant lot, her panicky gape desperately searching the snow for his whereabouts. She noticed his boxes were still sprawled across the ground. _Where the devil could he possibly be? _

That question, was soon answered, as Claira heard a loud, agitated growl of disapproval sound just behind her. Whirling about to face him, her mouth instantly dropped open. Why hadn't she noticed his enormous height before? And his eyes, both resembling two blackened orbs, frightened her, as they stared down upon her, hell-bent on seeking revenge. No wonder all the students feared him so; he was absolutely terrifying! 

Severus' wrathful glare immediately softened. And his temper subsided quickly, when he found the perpetrator to be Claira. At the same time, sharp pangs of guilt began to assault his chest--in painful reminder of the inexcusable way he had treated her the night before. Try as he might, he could not justify his actions; only hope they had not caused any lasting damage to her already fragile trust. Clenching his fists in a strenuous effort to relieve his previous frustration, he cleared his throat, and spoke in a cool, calm voice. 

"My dear, aren't we a bit old to be practicing such adolescent pranks? Now, be a good little girl and put down that snow--" 

**_SPLAT!_**

His speech was suddenly cut short as Claira hurled a large fistful of snow at him, successfully hitting him in the chest with a startling blow... He supposed he deserved that. 

Brushing away the slushy mess from his robes, Severus lifted his gaze, only to discover Claira vengefully balling another round in her hands.

"Claira, really, haven't we had enough fun for--"

**_SPLAT!_**

She threw the second snowball, this time, sashaying his crotch. Now _THAT _was wholly uncalled for! 

"Now see here, woman. If you do not cease this foolishness immediately, I'll-Claira--Don't!" 

**_SPLAT!_**

"And what exactly, Professor," Claira began to tease, while scooping up another chunk of sloshed ice to throw. "_ARE_ you going to do about it?" 

Severus quickly ducked, to avoid the forth snowball that was promptly launched at his head.

The girl had been warned.

Claira squealed girlishly, as Severus charged through the snow at her, his large, black cloak billowing angrily behind him in the breeze. Sniggling, she set off towards the willow tree, kicking up frozen earth as she rounded its middle. Stooping low, she attempted to retrieve another snowball. But he was far too close.... 

In the next instant, Severus had caught Claira's tiny frame in his arms, and swiftly tackled her to the ground. Pinning her wrists together with one of his hands, he quickly scooped up a palm full of snow with the other, and smashed it in her face. Ignoring her dainty screams and playful cries for help, he shoveled up another bit, and followed the same torturous procedure. 

Her sudden chimes of laughter, sounded very much like the symphonious tunes of forgiveness; it was certainly music to Severus' ears. And although he hadn't immediately acknowledged it, he soon discovered himself to be laughing along as well. It truly was a silly game-- one, he never would have partaken in, if he weren't absolutely certain that no one had a proper view of his ridiculous behavior. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. 

It didn't take long, for Severus to become perversely aware of just how erotic all the wiggling and squirming Claira's body was performing beneath his. Pointless as it were, she seemed to be very persistent in her struggle to be set free. Her mischievous grin, however, told him that she had no real hopes or intentions of escaping. Which, didn't truly matter, for he hadn't any immediate plans of letting her go; he was thoroughly enjoying himself at the moment. Gently brushing the spattered snow from her face, he took a private moment to admire her beauty, marveling at the way the sun's light revealed the crystal blue texture in her eyes;_ simply gorgeous._ And her tainted lips, molested by the frosty wind, were stained a ravishing strawberry red--even her pink nose and cheeks were becoming. 

A low chuckle, suddenly rumbled in Severus' throat, as his gaze drifted to her hair. Which, was in a right state of mess. But he fancied it that way. He could just imagine how it might look sprawled out across his pillow; this of course, after a long night of hot, vivacious sex. 

Sneering inwardly, Severus privately scolded himself for thinking such amative thoughts, as it provoked an immediate response in his trousers. At the same time, he watched Claira's mouth form a warm, coy smirk...So she noticed. And in doing so, attempted to take advantage of his little distraction by slipping one of her wrists out of his loosened grip. He instantly countered her move by snatching it back up with his free hand, while raising both of her arms above her head in a most compromising position. Refocusing his attention on the game, Severus lowered his voice and spoke in a deep, dangerous tone. 

"Whatever are you to do now, fair maiden?" 

He reveled in the way her eyes lit up amongst his larkish challenge. 

"Hmmm, well, being as though you're my captor, I think I should be the one asking _YOU_ that question," Claira hummed back, while moving her hips beneath his, tenaciously, in welcomed foreplay. 

Severus immediately caught on, obliging her body's request by teasing her inner thighs with his hardened bulge. 

"So I see. Then I suppose I should offer you one final request; before I have my way with you, that is. Lucky for you, wench, I am feeling quite charitable this morning." He found himself growing ever more aroused by her continuous squirm and false struggling. 

"You are too generous, my lord," Claira teased softly. "But I do have one last wish, actually." 

"Oh? Do tell," Severus inquired smoothly, his brow raised ever so slightly in interest. 

"A kiss," she whispered, her cheeks suddenly blushing a deep scarlet. "But, not just any kiss. I want a kiss that puts all others to shame." 

An amused, almost delighted smirk played at Severus' lips. His day, thus far, appeared to be working out, greatly, in his favor. 

"I see. Well, I must say, _that_ is a rather demanding request; I don't recall ever receiving one quite so onerous. Mind you, I'll need a moment to think it over," he lightly bantered, while his eyes playfully scanned her enticing features. They fell upon her savory cream complexion, her deliciously, elegant jaw line, her candy red lips, which were currently beaconing his tongue for a taste.... 

"Granted," he finally answered, his voice tumbling in a deep, velvety tone.

Lowering his mouth, Severus gently brushed his lips across hers, sampling their salty sweetness with his tongue, before exploring their full, voluptuous contour. Claira parted them invitingly, and he slowly, provocatively, began suckling at her bottom lip. She lightly nipped at his top, and they both moaned, in sync, at the fantastic sensation of their mouths purging together. 

Nibbling, licking, and teasing commenced, until Severus could no longer stand the suspense, and swiftly moved to deepen the kiss. Sensual were their tongues, as they met and privately swirled about, dancing successively in a hot, wet tango. So impassioned were they, that the rest of their bodies became jealous, wanting to seduce their adjoining partners as well. _And so they did._

Releasing his grip on her wrists, Severus carefully slid his hands beneath her back, while wrapping his arms around her tightly. Claira, in favorable response, folded her own around his neck, pulling, and urging him down even closer. It felt fantastic. And a deep growl suddenly thundered in his throat, as her stroking fingers entwined through his hair, exploring its sleek texture with the delicacy of silk. The sensation was new, incredibly erotic, and oh so arousing. _Good Merlin! _It was insane to want a woman so badly, so desperately. He would do anything to have her--anything, short of engaging himself in a nonconsensual act, that is. Severus wanted Claira to be just as willing, just as wanting as he. But the wait was excruciating, and the tight constriction in his pants, painful. He feared that prolonged exposure to such torture as this might very well cause him to forsake all his previous vows of virtue. Each pleasurable moan that escaped her warm, lecherous lips, stripped away another layer of his sanity, leaving only the nudity of sin to control his actions. He had better pull away soon.... God give him strength. 

Both bodies were left trembling in the wake of their stilling hips, the withdrawal of their tongues, and the final parting of their mouths. Struggling to catch her breath, Claira closed her eyes, cherishing every moment of Severus' insatiable kiss. And after what seemed like an eternity of silent bliss, she slowly reopened them, allowing her gaze to be captured within the shackles of his dark, hungry stare. There, she discovered the true meaning of lust, of passion; but also found that soft shimmer of light she so desperately longed to possess. So full of love and want, Claira's heart felt as though it were about to explode._ Should she confess her feelings? Could Severus possibly be feeling the same as she? What if he didn't? _The very thought of his rejection, pained her heart and kept her lips sealed tight. She would wait. Wait, until that perfect moment when she was certain he would return her words of love and adoration... but when? How will she know? 

Severus, quietly watched Claira's eyes shift from a bright, sparkling turquoise, to a dark, tantalizing blue. His voice instantly caught in his throat, as he gazed down upon her. Never before, has anyone looked onto him with such yearning, such want. And yet, there was something else there as well... but what exactly? He wasn't entirely certain. Despite the numerous accusations, he did not possess the ability to read minds, per se. With the assistance of a spell, he could view her memories. But what good would that do? It would tell him nothing of her current thoughts, or inner feelings. Although, a small dose of Veritaserum may very well do the trick. And it just so happens that he had a vial of it stashed away in his robe pocket, brewed special, to accommodate just such occasions.... 

_"Or, you can save yourself a sure fire ticket to hell, and try ASKING her first. How difficult is that? You know, sometimes, I think you rather enjoy being a conniving, malefic bastard,"_ interrupted his obnoxious inner voice. 

Snorting inwardly at his conscience, Severus couldn't help but agree that his sinister intentions, more often than not, far exceeded the necessary requirements to gain certain knowledge. And true, he can't simply drug the girl whenever he pleases, tempting as it were. 

Raising a tender hand to Claira's flushed face, he gently stroked her blushing cheek, whilst his mouth lightly brushed across her swollen lips with each spoken word. 

"A sickle for your thoughts, my lady?" 

Claira's eyes suddenly widened. Panic, coursed through her veins like a powerful river of dread. _Oh God! _He was waiting for her to answer, his dark, gorgeous eyes looking onto her expectantly. In that moment, Claira could not bring herself to lie. However, she could not bring herself to tell him the truth either. Not now. Not yet. 

"Its just that-I--I've missed you, Severus. I miss the time we spend together, even if it is just to test potions," she responded softly. So it wasn't the _ENTIRE_ truth, but it certainly wasn't a lie. She simply allowed her heart to confess a small portion of its secret. 

Severus had to admit, he was beginning to feel a loss for the girl as well; particularly on the nights their testing sessions were to be held. Too many times, he had caught himself gazing about his study, resting his eyes on all the empty places where she once had been. From his work desk, he could just envision her beautiful figure sprawled out across his leather sofa. Rolling around, on the antique rug by the fire. Sitting politely still, in the velvet armchair just opposite from where he sat... Her memory was a true entity, haunting his mind with both intimate and erotic fantasies--some real, though mostly fabricated. 

However powerful as these revelations were, Severus had no intentions of sharing them with her. Not now. Not ever. They were too private, too personal, and would only paint him weak--not to mention, foolish; both of which, he certainly was not. But how could he possibly deny her the romantic response she so desperately sought after? Though she hadn't said, her blazing blue eyes, so hopeful, so expectant, told all. It was to be, yet another unread chapter in her vast novel of courting rituals. _What could he possibly say, short of the truth, that might earn him some merit?_ Each wrong word counted as a thousand, he learned; his previous blunders had taught him that much. 

With the moment rapidly drifting into awkward silence, Severus knew he had to say _something_ encouraging. So he swallowed the lump in his throat, licked his lips, and blurted out the first suitable response his mind could conjure. 

"Our weekly sessions will begin again soon. I have plenty of draughts for you to test, Claira. So you needn't worry." 

"Oh. Good. That's... that's good to know," Claira murmured in disappointment, her hands suddenly slipping from around his neck. 

With a furrowed brow of dismay, Severus watched her sullen eyes fall to his chest, tracing the contours of his collar as if its buttons held some sort of captivating interest. _Dammit! _He had obviously chosen the wrong words... but which ones were the right? Did Claira not just admit that she misses the nights they spend together on potion experiments? His assurance on their continuation, in all essence, should have rendered her happy. However, his declamation appeared to have had the opposite affect....

_"You idiot! Think. Perhaps the girl wishes to see you ASIDE from the testing sessions. Possibly, on a more intimate basis, WITHOUT having to swallow poisons as an excuse to do so."_

Impossible. After his behavior last night, why would she? Why would anybody? No one has ever_ wanted_ to spend time with him, not without some type of compensation for it anyway. Try as he might, however, he could not ignore the fiery passion burning in her eyes; nor the way she touched him, kissed him, as if he were something desirable, an object worthy of possession. But what was Claira's motivation? He was certain she knew nothing of his family's wealth, or his personal fortune--so it could not be gold she was after. And he was no longer a deatheater; so it was not power she sought. Could the girl actually be sincere? Did she truly feel this way for him? 

Softly cupping Claira's chin in his hand, Severus gently lifted her gaze back upon him, determined to sort out the answer. Perhaps a subtle proposal would be an appropriate way to begin.

"Your visits to my study, Claira, are not restricted to invitation only. Although my workload prevents me from investing much time in anything else at the moment, you are certainly welcome to make use of my quarters--in any way you see fit. Furthermore, its walls currently hold an extensive assortment of literary classics, apart from my personal collection of reference tombs. The whole of which, I think you would find quite fascinating; that is, if you cared to humor the read." 

Brow raised steeply in apprehension, Severus vigorously scanned her features, hoping to discover some semblance of intrigue, some sign that he had not made a complete ass out of himself by granting her full access to his chambers. 

A deep ocean of wonder, was all her eyes revealed. Silent were her lips, though parted slightly as if appalled by his offering. What a fool he was, to assume his dank, dreary dungeon... life, could possible hold her attention long enough to be considered interesting._ How daft was he? How delirious? _

"That sounds wonderful. When shall I--I mean, if I were to visit your study, what would be a suitable time for me to come? I don't want to disturb you... if you're too busy." 

_How absolutely GENIUS! _Severus thought, as he wallowed in the excitement and anticipation now swirling in Claira's bright blue eyes. What a little beauty she was. He could just envision her tiny, nude body pinned beneath his on the leather sofa; possibly on his bed, though he seriously doubted he could make that far a journey. However, the soft, sheik rug by the fire would do quite nicely. His mouth, instantly curved into a wicked smirk, as he covertly began to plot and formulate a plan. 

"You may come and go, whenever you please. But note, it is somewhat habitual for me to tend to my study after dinner hours; tonight in particular, as I do have a few remaining scrolls of research to complete. However, it is nothing of dear importance, or anything that your presence would disturb. In fact...." He paused to tenderly brush away a wild strand of hair from her cheek. "I could do with a bit of company this evening. So, would it be safe for me to assume that you will be joining me then? Say, seven?" 

Claira's heart immediately began to thump patterns in her chest. Her breathing, ceased momentarily at the realization of his words. He was inviting her to his rooms! No potions. No set curfews to abide by--Just he and her, ALONE. She could barely control her excited tongue, as it was already moving to form an agreeable response. 

"Yes, of course. Seven is... perfect," Claira whispered breathlessly.

"Excellent," Severus murmured against her lips, before claiming them in a seductive preview of things yet to come--to hell with his research. It can wait till morning; that is, unless Claira is still with him when the sun rises. He can only hope. 

Ending the kiss with a soft growl, Severus slowly climbed to his feet, while extended Claira a helping hand. Pulling her up to a standing position, he carefully brushed the snow away from her clothing, as well as his own, before bidding her a final farewell.

"How fortunate for you that I have other obligations to attend to. Otherwise, I would not have hesitated to punish you proper," Severus playfully teased, whilst slipping his arms around her waist. Pulling her close in a tight embrace, he glided his mouth across her lips, unable to get enough of her sweet taste and unquenchable kisses. 

"Until tonight," he purred in promise, finalizing the encounter with a slow, wet swirl. After which, he promptly spun on his heel, and made to collect the boxes he had abandoned earlier.

Claira silently watched him walk away, admiring his graceful stride with lusty eyes and an appreciative smile. His movements were so smooth, so calculated, and yet masculine enough to be considered sexy. The man had style; she had to give him that. And those tailored robes, screamed taste of the costly sort._ 'He spared no expense when it came to dress,' _she mentally noted with an adorned smirk. Sighing contently, she stared after him a little longer, before turning and making her way back to the snowball fight. She needed a distraction to keep her mind occupied; the evening's wait was sure to drive her completely mad.

Severus tried his best to conceal the grin playing at the corner of his mouth, as he traveled along the snowy path leading back to the castle. Excitement, tickled his very muse with the certainty that tonight, was _THE_ night. Claira was finally ready to submit to him; he could feel it. Perhaps a long, hot shower before her arrival is in order. And his bed sheets will definitely need to be serviced properly. He'll have to inform the house elves to do a thorough once over on his rooms as well. They were already tidy enough, but a second, more in-depth cleaning wouldn't hurt; everything must be perfect. No disturbances. Albus has a nasty habit of interrupting at the most inopportune times--the door will have to be warded. He should probably practice his hand at various contraceptive charms as well. It has been quite some time since he last performed...

A flash of green light suddenly interrupted his scheming mind, as it came streaming across the grounds toward him. It was a misguided curse--one that missed the tip of his nose by mere inches. _Dammit!_ He hadn't the time for such insolence; certain_ preparations _had to be made. Hissing slurs, he whirled about wearing his most intimidating Professor Snape sneer, set to weed out the little prat who dared disturb his thoughts.... They will receive severe punishment for casting an unwarranted spell whilst in his presence as well.

Glaring around the child-plagued field, he scanned the centerfold, immediately spotting two boys engaged in an illegal duel. One of them, he recognized to be Charlie Banks, a Gryffindor third year. And the other, was Blake Healey, a fourth year Slytherin. Sighing in contempt, Severus trudged through the ankle-deep snow after them, fiercely spitting curses against the thought of having to deduct yet another House point from Slytherin; they were already well behind Gryffindor in the running for House Cup. A chivalrous matter, Minerva never failed to address, or gloat about, when presented with the opportunity. Perhaps he can provoke Mr. Banks into earning a few extra decrements, for his cheek. There will be a fifty-point penalty, if he dare even blink at him the wrong way.

Nearly in scolding range, Severus cleared his throat, ready to reprimand the boys. When suddenly, Banks conjured a surprisingly accurate disarming spell.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" he shouted. The tip of his wand instantly glowed a bright scarlet, as it sent a streak of light speeding towards its target.

The spell successfully hit its mark, slamming into the chest of the other boy. Healey was immediately knocked backwards, though somehow managed to keep hold on his wand. During his fall, he attempted to strike his opponent with one final curse.

"_PER...BISITUS...TOOOTALUS!_" His words were heavily flawed by the impact of his back hitting solid earth. And yet, his wand still lit up, and flashed a beam of purple light through the cold, misty air. Its direction held no purpose, no particular destination. It simply hurled down the field, past Banks, past Professor Snape, who quickly stepped out of its screeching path with an angry scowl.

Severus mindfully watched the curse fly by, quickly turning his head in an attempt to follow its path across the inhabited meadow....

The world then, became laggard. Its components, all moving in slow motion like some hellish nightmare. Before he could move, shout a warning, breath even, the curse had broke through a small assembly of children, only to plow straight into Claira's breast. The snowball she held, crumbled between her fingers, as her listless body slumped to the ground. Every fiber of Severus' being, became numb, and his limbs, immobile. All he could do was stare at her lifeless form, slightly buried beneath the snow laid field. 

A small crowd of students began to circle around, shrieking and poking at her with their wands. A few of them, the more intelligible of the bunch, flagged their arms in the air, signaling a need for help. Forcing himself to move, Severus stumbled towards the scene, his legs stubbornly refusing to cooperate with his brain. His heart was pounding louder than his footsteps; which, thankfully, seemed to increase in speed as he neared the horde of shouting children. Charging through their barrier, he recklessly shoved them out of the way, while dropping to his knees beside Claira.

His initial evaluation, revealed nothing of her current ailment; there were no visual fallacies, disfigurements, or anything near the sort. Her flesh was slightly paled, but he was certain that was due to the cold climate. No, the only change he could see in her appearance was her tightly closed eyelids. Quickly placing his hand on her cheek, he breathed a sigh of relief. Her skin was still warm and soft. Lowering his ear to her mouth, he attempted to assess her breathing, but failed. The students' loud, blaring voices were too distracting.

"SILENCE," Severus roared, then pressed his ear to her lips and nostrils once more. She was breathing. And doing so, quite normally. Which overthrew his previous assumption that she had been hexed with a simple sleeper charm. 

"Claira," he called softly. 

No response.

"Claira," he chimed again, this time, shaking her slightly.

Still no response.

_What the devil was wrong with the girl? _Not a thing, so it appeared. And yet she wasn't moving, nor answering his address. He was baffled, to say the least. A curse cannot be countered unless one knows its origin. And he knew nothing of this curse. It was foreign, possibly a new hex derived from the stupidity of the boy's blunder. Panic, slowly began to seep through his veins. Lifting his gaze, he impatiently searched the crowd, unable to locate the face he needed; Healey held the key to this mystery in his robe pocket.

"Where the devil is Mr. Healey?" Severus shouted angrily at the students.

"He's gone, sir."

"Yeah, took off when he saw you coming over here."

"Right coward, if you ask me." 

The group suddenly erupted into a noisy fit of accusations and gossip. Growling loudly in frustration, Severus hissed a dangerous word of silence. They immediately abided. He then scanned the crowd for a few reliable students to assist him. 

"Jordan, go and inform Madam Pomfrey of the situation; have her prepare for our arrival." 

The boy quickly ran off towards the castle. 

"Parkinson, I need you to find Mr. Healey," Severus instructed sternly. "Bring him to the infirmary, _immediately_." 

"Yes, sir." The plump girl nodded, then set off on her quest.

"The rest of you, back to your dormitories." 

Everyone grumbled slurs beneath their breaths, before scattering about to collect their belongings. 

Centering the whole of his attention back on Claira, Severus carefully scooped her up in his arms, hugging her close to his chest as though she were a valuable possession. And so she was. Perhaps even more than he dared to admit. But, the girl did save his life once, so it only seemed fit that he should return the favor. This was his logic, his excuse, if anyone were to question his motives for taking such care. 

The journey through the ocean of snow was excruciating. Thank Merlin, Claira's small, slender frame rendered her light to carry. Looking ahead, Severus released a long, laborious breath; he couldn't remember Hogwarts ever being at so far a distance. _What warped dream is this? _It seemed as if every step he took, lead him further away from the castle. Her hot breath against his neck, however, was proof of its reality, and he forced himself to ignore the delusion. His vision was simply distorted by confusion. Only minutes ago, Claira had lie beneath him, laughing vibrantly, and gifting his lips with sweet, seductive kisses. Now, she lay spiritless in his arms; the evening's promise, broken and shattered. 

  
  
========@=======@=======@=======@=======@======== 

  
  
After what seemed like an eternity of travel, Severus finally reached the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was awaiting their arrival in the corridor, door held open, and eyes wide with worry.

"Oh my! The poor dear is soaked to the brim! Hurry Severus, bring her inside," she ordered, already beginning to poke and prod at her as he swept under the archway. 

He quickly followed Poppy to the cot nearest the fire, whispering private words of comfort in Claira's ear, before carefully lying her down on top of it. Taking a step back, he withdrew his wand, and cast upon himself a drying spell that successfully relieved his drenched robes of all its melted snow. Unfortunately, he could not do the same for Claira. Mixing incantations, especially ones that are thought to be foreign, may end up causing more harm than good; only counter curses will be able to be performed on the girl.

"Thank you, Severus. I realize how busy you must be, considering all the work you've been putting in for the conference lately. Perhaps Professor Silverstone can assist me with the counter hexes; I do believe we may be dealing with black magic here," Madam Pomfrey exasperated, while chafing Claira's damp hair with a warm, dry towel. 

"I hardly think that will be necessary, Poppy." Severus spoke briskly, while shrugging off his cloak and vest. 

Madam Pomfrey watched in astonishment, as he tossed his robes aside, rolled up his sleeves, and approached Claira's bedside with a set jaw. He was obviously determined to stay. _Since when did he ever care about anyone other than himself? Who was this man? And what has he done with Severus Snape?_

"You know as well as I, Teresa's textbook education is primitive to my skilled knowledge of the Dark Arts. And with Dumbledore off meddling in Ministry affairs, you'll be needing a well rounded hand of experience," Severus informed her curtly, purposely avoiding her stare by shifting through a batch of remedies cluttering the medicine trolley nearby. Lifting the vials, he immediately began discarding the useless potions, while meticulously arranging the potentially curable sort into neatly stacked rows.

"I daresay... your help will certainly be appreciated," she regarded him kindly, before lowering her attention back to Claira. A brief, yet efficient examination left her just as baffled as Severus.

"Whatever this curse is, it does not appear to be of any immediate threat; her vital signs all read normal. This is very peculiar, indeed," she explained, while tapping her finger on her chin. "Well, I think the first action should be to remove these soppy clothes of hers--the poor girl must be freezing. Then, we can begin administering the counter curses." 

Madam Pomfrey immediately set to work stripping Claira of her shoes, socks, and pants. 

Severus did the same for her knit sweater and under-lying shirt, his hands stopping just short of the thin, silk fabric concealing her breasts. Stealing a quick glance around, he gingerly lowered his gaze to the rest of her body, secretly admiring her soft, feminine curves and milky, white skin. Clenching his teeth, he tried to control the anger swelling inside, provoked by thoughts of the night ahead, and what it _may _have held in store. 

Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, he carefully worked his fingers beneath the clasp of her bra, and unfastened it. Pulling the fabric apart, he nearly had her nipples in view when.... 

**_SMACK!_**

His hands were promptly slapped away by Madam Pomfrey. Who, was currently glaring up at him suspiciously, her eyes casting false accusations of the deepest, most darkest malice. His mouth immediately formed a defensive, tight-lipped sneer. And a new fury rose in his chest, causing his own eyes to narrow, and voice to deepen. 

"Don't you look at me like that, Madam. I am no pervert. I assure you, I had no intentions of molesting the girl. Besides, its not as if I haven't already seen her breasts--" He quickly bit his tongue. "A naked female before."

"Not this one you haven't! And don't you think for one minute that I'm just going to stand by and allow her vulnerability to be your excuse. Now, turn around," she huffed, her hands sternly placed on her hips to compliment her spoiled mood. 

"No, I don't think I will." Severus folded his arms in sheer defiance, refusing to be treated like some depraved villain. "How dare you make such accusations! I was simply removing her wet clothing, as per _your orders_. I cannot help it if she's nude beneath them. What exactly did you expect me _not _to see? And where the devil is all this anger coming from?" 

Poppy's features, briefly softened, as her gaze dropped to Claira's face. 

"Not anger, Severus. _Concern_. Claira has become very dear to me. And I do not wish to see her get hurt over this," she finally admitted in a hushed voice; she had waited several months to tell him so.

"Over what, precisely?" Severus hissed, attempting to keep his voice down in case Claira's hearing had not been affected by the curse. 

Madam Pomfrey's head suddenly snapped up, her eyes reprimanding him before her tongue even had time to catch up. 

"You know very well _what_ I mean. You. Her. It's obvious that there is something going on between the two of you. And I don't like it," she warned, in a stout, motherly voice.

"Perhaps there is. Although I fail to see where _that_ is any of your business," Severus spat back shrewdly. The room was beginning to grow quite uncomfortable beneath their heated conversation. And it was far to intimate for his liking.

"I think of Claira as one of my own. And I am certain that she feels the same for me, in a motherly fashion of course. So when your selfish antics leave her heartbroken, it will then become my business!"

"What in Merlin's name are you carrying on about?" Severus hadn't the slightest clue. Or so he thought. Or rather, pretended.

"I may be prone to this infirmary, Severus, but I do venture _OUT_ upon occasion." Her fierce gaze, seemed to reflect certain thoughts of their past, as did the tone of her voice. Her meaning was well understood.

Severus quickly averted his eyes. His hands, fumbled recklessly at the potion bottles he had previously arranged. Of all the bloody times to bring _THAT_ matter up, why must it be this one? His ears began to burn slightly, at the memory of their chance encounter two years back. It was midsummer, and Dumbledore, without _his _knowledge, offered to watch the hospital, while Madam Pomfrey accompanied the other female staff members to Hogsmeade; ladies night out, so to say. Luck be damned, their womanly escapades lead them straight to the Hog's Head. Where, he had currently been involved in _less than plausible activities upstairs_. Their presence remained unknown to him; until of course, he exited the travelers' loft. Following closely behind him, were not one, but three of the tavern's harlots, whose services he had just rendered. Discretion, had not been a practice of the novice whores, as they plagued his cheeks with farewell kisses, and flaunted their satchels of gold about for all in the pub to see. Amidst his departure, he had regrettably caught Madam Pomfrey's eye, as well as the disgusted expression on her face; it will forever be etched in his mind. He has not visited the Tavern since. Nor did he ever plan to.... there were other, more chary establishments, should the need arise.

"Yes, well, Claira is fully capable of handling herself. She does what she wishes, and nothing she does not. Should she want to spend her free time with me, then I certainly will not be the one to stop her." His voice suddenly lowered to an almost threatening tone. "And neither will you."

"That may be true," Poppy grudgingly agreed, while staring down at Claira grimly. "I just don't see why you have to bother with her at all. Surely there are plenty of _OTHER_ women you can indulge yourself in."

"That will be quite enough, woman! I do not seek your opinion, or approval on this matter. It is private, and will remain so." His eyes boldly met hers, in warning, to end the discussion before further regrets could be made. "I will do as I please with the girl."

Driven by the anger of defeat, Madam Pomfrey drew in a deep, heated breath, and unleashed her fury upon him. It was just a few brief words... but the scar would be everlasting.

"I thought as much. Leopards don't readily change their spots, do they?"

It was not intended to be a question. Rather a hurtful, vindictive statement; one that immediately caused Severus' eyes to turn dark and withdrawn. She had just slapped him in the face with an invisible hand from the past. Scolded him, for all the wrong that he has dedicated the remainder of his life to making right. Silently they stared, all bonds previously formed between them, unraveled--many, had taken several years to tie. Trust. Respect. Appreciation. Were now thought to be lies and betrayal. 

Poppy knew instantly that she had made a mistake. After all Severus has done for Dumbledore, for them, for the order. After all those months of torture he endured for the cause.... Did she truly mistrust him still?

"Severus, I didn't mean--"

"Think what you will of me," he interrupted, his voice slightly faltered. "Only know that I have remained honorable, as far as Claira is concerned; despite the _many_ opportunities I have had not to be."

Quickly, he turned his back to her, his pride prompting his legs to move towards the door; yet, he forced them to remain as they were. This was about Claira. And his need to see her well had grown quite powerful within those few moments of enlightenment. He knew now, that she was the _only_ person who had truly accepted him for who he was, not what he has done. Such things should be treasured, as they do not come by very often, if ever. Claira was indeed, special. He will personally see to it that she is taken care of--the rest of the world, and the trustless people in it, be damned.

Madam Pomfrey bowed her head in shame, and awaited the sound of the infirmary door being slammed shut behind him. After a few moments of silence, she daringly glanced up, surprised to see Severus still present in the room; it was unlike him to remain under such hostile circumstances. Normally, he retreated to the dungeons to ride out his temper. Or rather, drown in it. Why he stayed this time, she wasn't completely sure. But she was certainly grateful for it.

Choosing to keep quite, Poppy removed the rest of Claira's clothing, and then dressed her in a warm bed gown. It was selfish of she and Severus _both_, to ignore Claira whilst they argued senselessly. The poor dear is probably frightened enough without him--_them_, making it even worse for her. She tenderly lifted the young woman's hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. In a voice much calmer than the last, she softly informed Severus that it was safe for him to turn around. 

  
  
========@=======@=======@=======@=======@======== 

  
  
The sun rose high above the mountain peaks, soon to settle behind them, as dusk rapidly approached. Madam Pomfrey solemnly drew the curtains closed around the windows, retiring the room of natural light. Lifting her wand, she brightened the infirmary with magic, refusing to give into the night's dark treachery. Her eyes, soon fell upon the exhausted man sitting at Claira's bedside, his elbows rested on either knee, and fingers coarsely strung through his black, tangled hair in frustration. Suddenly, his head snapped up. He sprang from his chair and shouted,

"_CONTRA SUMMERSIO_!"

Nothing.

"She hasn't drowned, Severus. Really, we're scrapping the bottom of the cauldron here. I think its time we owl Dumbledore," Poppy announced gravely.

Severus sat back down and roughly massaged his temples, than the bridge of his nose. Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement. The deep crease in his brow did not go unnoticed. He was worried. And that worried her. Next to Albus, Severus was the most knowledgeable when it came to the Darks Arts. He must have conjured every counter hex and curse known to wizard, aside from the numerous potions he forced Claira to swallow-- if Dumbledore couldn't cure her....

Just then, one of the Slytherin students came barreling through the infirmary door. She was out of breath, her face red from the hasty travel. It was that Parkinson girl. Poppy had warned her to keep away from those chocolate frogs; they were frightfully fattening.

"Professor...Snape...Professor Snape! I've--I've found Blake. But he... won't... won't come. I told h'm you was looking for him. I think he's afraid that you might be angry." She was struggling for air.

Severus immediately bolted from his seat, causing the small, wooden chair he sat upon, to topple over several times before landing on its backside.

"Of course I'm angry with him, you stupid girl. Where is he now?" Severus demanded impatiently. 

"Common... Common Room, Sir."

Severus quickly snatched up his cloak, and tossed it over his shoulders.

"Severus, the boy's wand..." Poppy began, though only to be cut off by his brazen sneer.

Of course he knew.

  
  
**Meanwhile, in the Slytherin Common Room.....**

  
  
Several students were engaged in a competitive game of wizard snaps. Those who chose not to participate, buried their noses in books, attempting to complete their given assignments before the holidays. In the furthest corner of the dormitory, hidden behind a table piled high with thick tombs and parchments, sat a trembling fourth year. Beside him, a concerned friend addressed him diligently.

"You should've went with Pansy to the infirmary, mate. Ya don't wanna go crossing Snape. He can be a right snake when he's angry, even to his own House. I've seen it. Once." 

Healey released a low groan, his eyes burdened with fright. 

"Well, I think he did right by steering clear of him. I heard that Claira witch is Snape's girlfriend; he's probably in a right fit over it. Neville Longbottom swears he saw them snogging in the infirmary a few weeks ago," nosied in a passing sixth year girl. 

Blake quickly buried his face in his hands, now utterly horrified.

"Rubbish! As if Snape can get a woman, specially one that hot," the other boy informed her with a swift roll of the eyes. 

"Oh, I don't know. Snape is kind of sexy when his face ain't all twisted up mad. He may even have a decent body hidden beneath those robes--"

"Please, spare me; I'll have nightmares for weeks!" 

Just then, the Common Room door violently swung open, its heavy oak slamming loudly against the stone wall. The dormitory instantly fell silent, as a tall, dark form swooped inside, his fury apparent by strong, heavy strides and soaring, black robes. Even his hair seemed to lash out in anger, whilst he scanned the room in a blitz, searching for the bane of his current malady. The children immediately stepped out his path like the parting of the red seas, plastering themselves against the walls in a strenuous effort to keep from his wrath. They knew _that_ look all too well. 

His narrowed eyes soon came to rest on a young boy; thought to be hidden beneath a small table shadowed in the corner. Those nearby quickly fled, as Professor Snape approached him with the stealth of a ravenous snake. Gripping the edges of the desk, he overturned it with one powerful thrust, causing all its contents to smash against the wall beside it. There were a few girly screams of fright while he did so, but Severus purposely ignored them as he snatched up Healey's robe collar, and dragged him off the floor. 

"Your wand, Mr. Healey. NOW!" he snarled viciously, barely able to control his hands from strangling the coward's scrawny little neck.

"Erm... Sir?" Blake stuttered, unable to comprehend the request; his fear left him too befuddled. 

With a loud, aggravated growl, Severus plunged his fist into the boy's robe pocket, and retrieved it himself. Tossing Healey aside, he withdrew his own wand, placed its tip to the boy's, and hissed, 

"_PRIOR INCANTATO_!"

The wand immediately lit up, shooting a jet of white, misty smoke across the room. Severus instantly felt his blood run cold, as he watched the duplicated spell cloud around one of the adjacent bookshelves, causing its components to temporarily fade invisible. _Dammit!_ The little bastard had performed magic with the wand; subsequent to the curse he had cast upon Claira. It was a concealing charm, most likely used to keep himself hidden. Only the last spell conjured, could be retrieved using that incantation--the only incantation. The girl's fate might have rested in his ability to recant the exact magic Healey had used. Now, the whole was lost. She may never be cured.

Slowly, furiously, Severus turned to the boy, his eyes reflecting the hell's fire that burned deep within the pit of his chest. Nostrils flaring and teeth tightly clenched, he grabbed him by his uniform vest, and roughly lifted him to his height, using the rough surface of the wall to support the latter of his weight. 

"You are just as pathetic and worthless as your father; feckless to the wizarding community-a bloody nuisance to society. In school, he was a disobedient little prat just the same. Do you know what happens to insubordinate students, Mr. Healey?" His words dripped pools of venom, while the hand that clutched the boy's robes, twisted and tightened, nearly cutting off the source of his breathing. 

Blake's skin suddenly paled. Provoked by fright, he soiled his undergarments, unable to control his fear. His eyes kept shifting to the long, black wand, securely kept in his professor's grip.

Severus immediately glanced down, his lip curling into a disgusted sneer as he watched a few droplets of urine splash to the floor. Spitting mad curses, he quickly released his hold on the boy, placing a safe, dry distance between them. 

Tucking his own wand away, he promptly drew his knee up, and snapped Healey's in two. Severus then tossed the split pieces of wood at his former student, to keep, as a cruel reminder of his dastardly deeds. 

Blake slowly retrieved the remnants of his wand, his eyes tearing up at the sight of his recently gifted birthday present.

"Sir, my... my... wand!"

"You won't be needing it, Mr. Healey. You're expelled. Collect your belongings and owl your parents; I want you gone by morning." Snape's glare remained cold and unscathed, feeling no remorse for the quivering boy in his wake. The child held no value, no purpose. He was a disgrace to the name of pureblood, bearing no honor or respect for the superior rank of his class. He was to be, yet another disappointment to Hogwarts, his House, and the entire wizarding world.

Daring a step closer, Severus towered over the boy, speaking in a dark, dangerous tone that only he could hear.

"Pray, Mr. Healey, that Ms. Bell awakens before you leave. Even more so, that I do not find you if she doesn't. Remember, I am no longer your Professor. And you, are no longer under the council, or _protection_, of Hogwarts."

Spinning on his heel, Severus cast a deadly glare to all, warning them of the same repercussions, were they to mimic the boy's insolence. He then stormed through the door, slamming it closed behind him in the exact fashion by which he had entered. 

Slowly, the students emerged from their dwelling places, silently glancing at each other with wide eyes and shaken expressions. Keeping their backs to the shivering boy in the corner, they gradually went about their previous activities, ignoring Blake as if he no longer existed. And so he didn't. Not in their House, not anymore. He had been shunned. Not to be acknowledged. Not to be friended. Not to be spoken to. It was the Slytherin way. 

  
  
========@=======@=======@=======@=======@======= 

  
  
Madam Pomfrey paced the infirmary floor, biting her nails, and casting worried glances at the hourglass purged upon her desk. _What the devil was taking Severus so long? Surely he had retrieved the boy's wand by now?_ Whisking over to Claira, she pressed a tender hand to her cheek, checking the temperature of her skin. Her fingers then trailed down to her neck, where she immediately felt for her pulse. She found it, still beating strongly. _Thank Merlin_. In all her years of practice, Poppy had never witnessed anything quite like this before. But it did not necessarily mean that the curse was unfamed--certainly Albus would know. It just meant that she was unfamiliar with its attributes; there was something new to be learned everyday, even in her age of experience.

Just then, the hospital door creaked open. Madam Pomfrey quickly tore her gaze to Severus, who quietly swept inside. She looked onto him with relief, expectancy, but soon lost faith when he shook his head somberly, and reclaimed his post by Claira's bedside. Sighing heavily, she marched over to her escritoire, and snatched up her quill. Hastily, she scribbled a summons to Dumbledore, requesting his immediate return.

"I'll be back shortly, Severus; I'm off to the owlery. I also thought to stop by the library and have Madam Pince sort through a few books on the elder curses. Perhaps we can find something useful," Poppy called over her shoulder, before rushing out the door.

Finally alone, Severus released a long, alleviated sigh, and slurred his chair closer to the cot. Leaning forward, he gently wove his fingers through Claira's meshed hair, pulling its loose strands from her face so that he may view her properly. His hand lingered, moving only to trace the soft, round curve of her delicate brow. She looked so peaceful lying there, so angelic.... it was always the innocent who suffered, no matter how petty the evil. A fit of self-loathing, soon struck his ladened heart, as Severus realized that he was to blame for her current affection. Had he not sidestepped the curse that morning, she would be well, and he in her place. The thought sickened him to the point of feeling ill; he certainly deserved it more. Dropping his hand to her blankets, he warmly tucked them beneath her chin, guilt provoking his show of kindness. That, and he cared for the girl, something awful.

Easing his lips down to her ear, he began whispering genuine words of comfort, assuring her that he will not leave her side--at least not until he sees her safe and right again; he still had an eternal debt to repay. And, by God, she will be reimbursed.

Unaware to him, was the woman silently standing under the archway, watching his every move with a confounded expression of surprise on her face. Madam Pomfrey had forgotten to seal the scroll to Albus, in her hurriedness to reach the owlery; a stamp of wax, was needed to secure the safety of its deliverance. 

Never, in their fourteen years familiar, had Poppy ever seen Severus act so compassionately towards another. And yet, there he was, talking softly, soothingly, and caressing Claira's cheek as though it were a common occurrence. She honestly did not think him capable of such tenderness, such concern... Perhaps she had been wrong about him after all. Maybe, just maybe, there was a real sincerity in his conquest. She can only hope, for Claira's sake, that _that_ were true. It certainly appeared to be.

Deciding that the moment should remain private, Madam Pomfrey quietly stepped away, thinking it only right that Minerva should be informed of the situation. And she would definitely have means of correcting her scroll's inadequacy.

  
  
**One hour later....**

  
  
Perhaps it was the intense, persuasive glow of candlelight, which prompted his sudden course of actions. Or perhaps it was fatigue, which drove him to indulge in such a desperate act of sentiment. Either way, Severus found himself gifting Claira's temple with soft, purposeful kisses. To her eyelids, he did the same, being especially careful not to disturb their fragile rest. Further down he traveled, until his mouth grazed her stilled lips. And there he stayed. Slowly, gently, he pressed his to, begging them to awaken and heed his call. It was a ridiculous attempt. Yet in that moment, somehow, it felt completely and insanely right. 

Time swept by, unaccounted for. Finally growing weary, Severus pulled his lips from hers, and sat back with a deep, exhausted groan. As he did, the slightest movement below caught his attention. Anxiously, his gaze shot down to her eyelids, which were now lightly flickering open. Holding his breath, he lifted his hand to her chin, and gently tilted her face to his for a closer examination. Slowly, cautiously, they opened fully to him, their beautiful blue hue blurring beneath anguished tears.

"Claira?" He somehow managed to murmur her name.

"Severus," Claira answered back, before springing from her bed, and throwing her arms around his neck. 

Standing, his own arms wrapped around her tightly, embracing her while his face nuzzled into the ruffles of her hair; its fragrance was still just as lovely as it always were. 

Moving back to the cot, Severus gingerly sat down upon it, pulling Claira into his lap as he did so. She then began to cry against his shoulder. Never before, has he held anyone whilst they wept; he was always the cause of them to be doing so in the first place. Yet now, holding Claira, everything seemed to come so naturally. Somehow, he knew exactly what to do. He knew precisely what she needed. Him. And it was disturbing. But the feeling of being needed, wanted, was fantastic.

"I... I... couldn't move. Every... everything went black.... I couldn't see." Her voice trailed off, as heavy sobs took over. 

Soothingly, Severus rocked her.

"I know, Claira. _I know_. I was there."

"I... I... heard," she whispered, curling her body into the comfort that only his arms could ever provide. She had heard it all. His soothing words. His argument with Poppy. Everything.

Severus felt a sudden tidal wave of panic rush through his veins. So she HAD heard. _Just how much?_ Quickly, his mind scanned through the intimate words he had offered, searching for possible confessions that may prove compromising... He could not recall any immediate threats, nothing that he need take back straight away; he must be more careful.

After a short while, Claira's body finally began to relax, and her breathing slowed to a quiet, normal-paced rhythm. It was then, that Severus became curious as to how she had awoken from the curse. _Had it simply faded?_ He thought to ask her. So he did.

"Claira, did you hear, or feel, anything different just before you came to?"

Capturing the hem of her nightdress, Claira brought it to her face, swiftly wiping it dry. She then lifted her gaze to him, wholly embarrassed that she had cried so hard into his robes; she did not like to be thought of as weak or frail, even if it were true. 

"I... I'm not sure. It was silent for a while; I thought you might have left. Then I felt... I felt you kiss me." Her mouth dropped slightly as she realized its meaning. 

It was the Perbacius Curse. _Why had he not thought of it before? _It was so simple. True, it was not a common magic. But the symptoms should have been easier for him to identify. He had allowed himself to become too overwhelmed, too absorbed in feeling for the victim. It was a most dangerous allowance; one he never would have permitted, had he been thinking properly. 

Sensing his withdraw, Claira immediately folded her arms around his neck, not wanting him to release her; not just yet. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things that he needed to know. How to find the words?

"It was the kiss then," she murmured distractingly. "It was the kiss that broke the spell?"

"The Perbacius Curse, yes." His hand came to rest on her hip, and his chin, on the top of her head. She cuddled into his warmth.

"I'm sorry," Claira softly whispered. "Last Sunday, in my room... I shouldn't have--"

"Think nothing more of it," Severus interrupted, not wanting to discuss past mistakes. "It has already been forgotten."

Closing her eyes, Claira pressed her ear to his heart, listening, loving the sound of its low, distant thumping. 

The two _watchful_ figures standing in the doorway, went unnoticed. That is, until a third arrived, and completely broke the silence.

"Claira! Oh, thank Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey cried in glee, as she pushed through Dumbledore and Minerva to get inside.

Seeing the trio of spectators, Severus quickly slipped away from Claira, leaping from the bed to stand and straighten his robes. He then stepped aside, allotting Madam Pomfrey a generous amount of space to examine her patient.

"Severus, you broke the curse! What was it? What did you do?" She chimed, holding him in much higher revere than she ever had before.

All eyes were now upon him, their penetrating stares burning through his skin like parchment to a flame. Did they truly expect him to confess? What was he suppose to say?

"Nothing," he spoke aloud, answering his own question, hers as well.

"Think carefully, Severus. Is there anything you may have said, or _done_, which could be linked as a contributing factor? It is imperative that we know, should future occurrences arise," Dumbledore inquired sternly, his eyes shifting to gaze at him above half moon spectacles.

Severus had a faint suspicion that Albus already knew, that he was only trying to bait him into conceding. But without solid proof, he had no other choice but to swallow his pride.... and completely humiliate himself.

"_Ikissedher_," he mumbled, his ears slightly reddening beneath his embarrassment. 

"Pardon?" Albus, Minerva, and Poppy all asked at once.

Clenching his fists, Severus corrected his composure, refusing to be made a mockery of. Clearing his throat, he gave it second go, speaking in his most intelligible, austere voice.

"Upon closer inspection, I began to recognize certain _indications_ of the Perbacius Curse; her seemingly natural exterior, yet anomalous tenor, were both prominent symptoms of the conjuration. As you well know, its first enchantment can be dated back to the late seventeenth century." He began circling the bed, individually eyeing them as if giving a lecture. "As the sole attendant at the time of my resolution, I had no other choice but to perform the osculation on the girl myself. And, once again, I was correct in my assumptions. As you can see, Claira is mobile, and fairing quite well. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other, more _pressing_ matters to attend to."

Snatching up his cloak, Severus quickly slung it over his shoulders, and swept through the door; successfully eluding any further interrogation of his behavior. 

  
  
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FireValkyrie: Don't worry; I have no intentions of stopping. As for Sirius, I already have his storyline planned out. In fact, I have the entire story written in my head. I just need to transfer its contents to the computer screen! Easier said, then done. 

jazzchic: Its on the way, dear! 

D1fferent: There are various time lengths between chapter postings, but hopefully it's worth the wait. Thanks for reviewing! 

Yasmine: Divine Thing: Hopefully this chapter will answer some of your questions. I think you summed up my characters exactly as they are. Good job. I enjoy Remus this way as well. We know very little of him, and what we do know, was taken from a child's point of view. I don't think Lupin can keep a steady relationship, being a werewolf and all. Women are bound to notice sooner or later. LOL. The Yule Ball is coming, keep reading! 

MissThebes: Two more chapters. There are some events that you all need know about. We still have to work on Severus. He's a hard knob to turn. Please keep reading! 

Claire: Here's the new chapter. Enjoy! 

sportzjunkie: I'm glad you're enjoying it. We will begin to see subtle changes in Severus over the next few chapters, and also a huge contrast between how he treats Claira, and everyone else. Should be great fun. Thanks for the review! 

strega: I'm glad you picked that line up. I was hoping someone would notice it. Its nice to know my readers are paying such close attention to detail. It means we are all on the same channel. Stick with me, there are some great things to come. I promise! 

Queen Of The Sacred Flames: Well, I love my reviewers! Please don't hurt me. I'm writing as fast as time allows! 

SeverusSnape: That was my favorite part as well, the sweet-sour comparison. I worked a long time on that. I thought it was important to show a little of Snape's possessiveness. He's frightfully jealous when it comes to other men trying to woo her attention. Have you posted a new story yet? If you did, email me the link! 

purplestar1: I hate her too! Don't worry; she's going to get exactly what's coming to her. Perhaps at the Yule Ball *wink* 

tinxiebell: Thanks for the feedback. Keep reading! 

AltoSaxyGal: 'Unstable Romance' that was a perfect description of this fic! LOL. You get it! Thanks for the reassurance. Sometimes I think people overlook the complications. Claira has many hurdles to jump through to get Severus to budge. It will take time, but hopefully in the end.... 

Glinda Trisstt: I think Claira is too contained to bash anybody. It's not really her personality. But perhaps if she's pushed to the edge, we may see a little fire. Maybe Severus can teach her a thing or two, we'll see. I rarely visit AdultFanfiction.net, but I did read the rest of your "Snaring Snape" story. It was awesome. I love your writing. Next time I go there, I'll be sure to check your other stories out. Thanks for reviewing. 


	29. What Lies in Shadows

  
  
**Note to readers:** Finally, I know. Life has been very busy, and constructive these past few months. I received a couple of writing books for Christmas--grammar, structure, ect. And I have been working hard to apply what I've learned to this chapter; you will notice a change in format. I have also gone back and revised several chapters, not changed them, just added a few extra descriptions and corrected the grammar. Soon, they will all be upgraded. 

Quick reminder: I began writing this story before the fifth book came out. So it is definitely AU. However, I couldn't help but apply a couple things from the new one. Just keep that in mind as you read. Thank you.

**Important Note: **In case some of you may have forgotten, the _**Caduceus Aura**_ was the wandless healing magic Claira used to save Severus' life in chapter 16. And it had ultimately dispelled the Dark Mark from his forearm. We will learn more about this special power as the story progresses, as it is the bases for one of the darker plot twists yet to come. Stay tuned!

  
  
Chapter: 29

  
**

What Lies in Shadows

**

  
  
Dusk begot the evening's light, prompting the castle's torch flames to burst alive, and burn anew. Upon their fire's kindle, a vast legion of shadows slowly took form, besieging the infirmary walls, its cathedral ceiling--the marble archway, whose opened entrance bled into the blackened corridor beyond. And amidst its cold darkling, a lone figure stood. Shrouds of black robes only furthered to cloak his presence, as ebony eyes cast a secret stare of silence upon a young woman nursing the wounds of an injured child. Her long, delicate fingers, eased and nurtured, while skilled hands tenderly wrapped a thick healing bandage around the boy's frail wrist. As she did this, a loose lock of hair fell from its noose, straying into her eyes... so intense, so beautiful, though slightly narrowed in concentration. Slowly, she brushed the rogue strands aside, tucking them away behind her ear. Again, the figure's gaze drifted to her hands, observing them, memorizing their graceful movements. Almost immediately, his mind was pulled into a vortex of past pleasantries. He remembered, nearly felt, the magical delight of her fingers strumming through his own hair, the fantastic sensations they had conjured with just a few simple strokes. His eyes closed at the thought, imagining how they might feel elsewhere on his body--amazing, no doubt--just like the woman they belonged to.... 

Madam Pomfrey sat behind her desk, exhausting herself over a pile of paperwork that needed to be completed and filed for the Ministry. New decrees required that all medical happenings within the school, be recorded and sorted for review, should an official choose to evaluate the hospital's spendings. The task was frightfully tedious, and stressful to boot. And it certainly didn't help her nerves any, to have Severus stalking the passageway, lurking about like some over-grown bat hiding in the shadows. It was_ creepy_. Not to mention, annoyingly distractive. She could understand his concern over the girl, but was this really necessary? Stealing a glance at her assistant, Poppy wondered if Claira even realized he was there--probably not. Sitting near the door, she would occasionally catch a glimpse of robes swishing in the darkness. But from where Claira stood, the shadows concealed his presence rather well. 

Although Poppy had made a personal vow to mind her own business, she was finding it harder and harder to abide. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to speak with Albus over the matter... maybe he could do something about that pesky dog Padfoot as well. That filthy, germ-infested beast has been plaguing the hospital wing for months! Honestly, if it wasn't one, it was the other! 

Severus stared on, only meekly aware that his behavior was skirting along the borders of obsession. Since Claira's tragedy, the need to see her safe had grown quite powerful...disturbingly powerful. Certainly _this_ was not normal. And yet, he could not resist the mystic pull of her enchantment, the overwhelming urge to keep her protected. Claira's beauty held a magic of its own mighty. It was so that he could not tear his eyes away from her lovely. Her face. Those eyes. That body. Merlin, that ambrosial body...

"Good evening, Severus." 

Professor Snape's body immediately froze stiff at the sudden address. How could he have not known his shadow brought company?_ Damned fool!_ He had allowed himself to become far too absorbed in his thoughts--a most dangerous liaison for a man whose enemies weighed countless. Well, at least it was a voice of familiar, a soft-spoken friend he had long since come to trust. 

"Headmaster," Severus replied in low key, never taking his eyes off the object of his affection. There was really no point in disguising his interest; he had already been caught mid-prowl. 

Dumbledore quietly stepped forward, stopping only to stand beside the younger man situated in his path. Silently, his gaze followed his companion's, until, he too, was observing the activities of a certain mediwitch... Ah yes, Miss Claira Bell. Her youthful beauty was quite captivating, Albus noticed, while sharing in his partner's intrigue. 

Both men quietly watched in reverence, as Claira applied a soft, cotton cloth to the boy's cheeks, drying his tears, while her arms pulled him into a tight, motherly embrace. He was but only a lad, a first year at that--possibly still suffering from the withdrawal of his parents and family. Rocking him slowly, she gently pressed her lips to his forehead, soothing him as if he were a child of her own. Severus had no idea Claira took such care with the students; it was certainly more than he could say for himself. And the sight of her cradling the boy in her arms appeared so natural, so befitting... the warm sensation it provoked in his heart was most peculiar. 

"She is quite the extraordinary young woman," Albus commented softly, his eyes full of wisdom and understanding. 

"_Yes_," Severus breathed out in a whisper, barely aware that his reply had been spoken aloud; it was not intended. 

After a few moments of purposeful silence, Dumbledore removed his half moon spectacles, and carefully wiped the lenses clean on his gown. 

"Madam Pomfrey tells me that Claira has been fairing rather well with her practices...her practices with the Caduceus Aura, that is." The elder wizard paused strategically, awaiting the heavy sigh of disapproval he was certain would come. And come it did, right on cue. "Now Severus, you known as well as I, such a magic can not be, should not be, repressed. The girl has been empowered with a very rare and special gift, my friend--we simply mustn't deny her that. We should encourage it, if nothing else." 

Severus raised a sharp, ireful brow at the news. Not only were these 'practices' dangerous, they were also secret dealings being carried out without his immediate knowledge, or participation. And that angered him. Greatly. Apparently his past indulgences, mainly time spent preparing for the conference, had distracted his mind from several in-house affairs. What other ghastly happenings did he not know about? Quite honestly, he did not think Claira would ever want--nevertheless try--to perform the magic again. This, considering the outcome of her last conjuration; they had both been hospitalized. Obviously, the girl has some type of silly ambition to master the craft. It is a very foolish, not to mention, risky conquest for one of her inexperience. Many world-renowned healers have attempted this same feat, only to fail; nothing had ever been gained but a withered rose on their gravestone. 

"Am I to assume you approve of this, Albus?" Severus inquired with a bitter tone. 

His reluctance to agree was expected. Turning his full attention to the younger man, Dumbledore placed a tender hand on his shoulder, hoping to convince him otherwise. 

"Indeed, I do. Try to understand, my boy. Think of the benefits, think of all the advantages that would come with her succession--" 

"And what about the consequences of her failure?" Severus snapped back, shrugging off the old wizard's hand defiantly. "Are they to be ignored?" 

"Of course not, Severus, of course not. That is why we are taking every precaution necessary to keep her safe. Poppy has been, and will be, supervising each summoning Claira performs. I assure you, no harm will befall the girl." 

"I find it hard to believe Poppy would ever agree to such lunacy as this," Severus hissed beneath his breath, wanting nothing more than to vent his true feelings about it all. But seeing as though it was Dumbledore with whom he was speaking to, he grudgingly kept them suppressed. 

"She did not agree... not at first. It took a great deal of persuasion to 'woo her mind,' so to say," Dumbledore admitted with a slight chuckle and self-proclaimed gleam. 

Severus wasn't nearly as amused as he. 

"Why are you telling me this now? It seems to me your decision has already been made. Certainly my approval, or rather _disapproval_, will not make a difference either way." 

"This is true. This is true." Albus took a deep, thoughtful breath. "However, there is another matter with which I find myself at odds. And since the two of you appear to have bonded on a more personal level than the rest, I think your opinion would be key in its resolve." 

There was something unsettling in the way his tone suddenly shifted to one of secrecy and hidden agenda. 

"If Claira were to succeed in her trials, and I do believe she will, her advanced healing skills would prove invaluable during times of war." His eyes immediately swept across the deserted corridor. "A sort of weapon, if you will." 

"So, what of it?" Severus growled impatiently. 

_'Perhaps I have postponed it long enough,'_ Albus thought to himself, while staring into the eager eyes of his companion. 

"I thought it wise to invite Claira to the next Order meeting--" 

"Absolutely not!" Severus erupted, his raised voice prompting all eyes to dart in his direction. He quickly stepped out of the doorway, followed closely by the Headmaster. 

"Do keep your voice down, Severus. It was merely a suggestion--I have yet to make a final decision on the matter," Albus commanded softly. "Do you truly think her incapable of handling such a position?" 

Severus quickly averted his gaze, knowing all too well that she was. The girl had such strong will power, and great strength in her determination. He was certain that Claira could achieve anything that she set her mind to; it was one of her more admirable qualities that he has come to favor. However, even if she were fully capable of joining the Order in ways of physical and mental adequacy, he was not prepared to seal her fate... even if it meant having to lie to Dumbledore. 

"No, Albus, I do_ no_t believe the girl is ready. Claira is still very much a child in ways of age and innocence. How can we expect her to compete in battle, while her mind remains ignorant and naïve to the dangers these dark forces pose?" 

"Then let us educate her, my boy. Let us make her aware of the true evils Voldemort and his followers have brought upon our world, and will continue to bring if we do not strike back." Dumbledore's brow steeply creased to stress his point. "Ignorance is a danger of its own accord." 

"Ignorance is bliss," Severus argued. "Are we to strip every man, woman, and child of their innocence? Their peace? Tell me, Albus, once that is gone, what have we left worth fighting for?" 

There was such passion, such fire, brewing in the younger man's eyes, Dumbledore regarded with pride. And his words were so full of wisdom; it was a wisdom that can only be spoken from the heart._ Perhaps he was right_. What good is a soldier with no motivation, no drive? Every man needs a dream, a life worthy of losing his own to protect. And in that moment, it became quite apparent that Severus... has already found his. 

"I will not interfere with her invite; nor will I be the one to extend it. That being said, if Claira steps one bloody foot through that door come Sunday, you can expect my immediate resignation from the Order--I will have no part of it." Severus' eyes purposely locked upon the older man's, if only to convey his seriousness. "Good evening to you, sir." 

With one quick nod and slight swoosh of robes; he was gone. Dumbledore stared after him for a while longer, his heart desperately searching the darkness for some sign that Severus might be wrong, and _his_ intentions right. 

He could find no justification within its blackened depths. 

So it was with a heavy sigh that Albus turned away from the infirmary, from his previous plans, and disappeared into the shadowy corridor leading to his private chambers.

  
  


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The frozen earth crunched loudly beneath flinty, black boots, as the morning's sun cast its first glow of light over the snowy plains. In the far distance, smoke could be seen rising from the chimney tops of several opening shops in the village; business woke early in the town of Hogsmeade. 

Severus pulled the collar high on his frock coat, shielding his neck from the arctic gusts of wind, while his chilled lips cursed the winter season and all its climatic discomforts. Even with a warming spell and thick layer of dress, his body shivered. One would think, after years spent living in the damp, gelid dungeons of Hogwarts, he would be accustomed to such frore temperatures. This is not so; he was but human after all. However, he did find it rather amusing that the majority of his subjects thought him to be anything but. For years, he has been deemed one of the vilest creatures of the night, a ruddy vampire, or so they claim. It was truly a ridiculous notion. And had the little prats been taught their studies properly, they would be able to decipher the varying attributes and see that his skin did not burst into flames beneath sunlight; nor did he drink blood from his goblet at dinner. No matter, he supposed he could not hold them fully accountable for their exhibit of stupidity and lack of common sense--they haven't had a decent DADA instructor in nearly a century. 

Taking his first step over the passing, which parted the castle grounds from Hogsmeade's trail, Severus swiftly withdrew his wand and apparated the remaining distance to the village. He hadn't time to dawdle. There was much business to be done. And with the conference only two days away, he had even lesser time in which to do it in. 

A loud whip and crack sounded, just before Professor Snape arrived in the square. Already, the village was littered with a wide array of witches and wizards, all dashing about to collect their last minute holiday gifts. Many, whose eyes suddenly darted in his direction, a few suspicious, but mostly curious to see the newcomer; a quick sneer, dismissed their peery gapes. 

Walking on, Severus scowled in disgust at his surroundings, unable to comprehend the logic behind cheap tinsel and tawdry Christmas décor. Wreaths, ribbons, ridiculously large red bows... to what purpose do these obnoxious ornaments serve?_ Do they even have one?_ The sheer insanity of people during this time of year was really quite unnerving. 

Choosing the correct path to follow, Severus immediately set off to complete his tasks, wanting nothing more than to make his visit as brief, and painless as possible. 

  
  
**Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts....**

  
  
The castle slowly began to stir. One by one, students and staff piled into the Great Hall for breakfast; though not all at the same time, or pace for that matter. It was Wednesday morning, and there were still lessons to teach, classes to attend... magic to be learned. However different as his or her agendas proved, they all shared one common goal--to survive the remainder of the week. Come Saturday, Hogwarts would be free for the holidays. 

The room was calm, quiet, save the light scrapping of forks and occasional whispered conversation. Although the Hall appeared to be in order, there was a rising tension in the air. The Yule Ball was nearly upon, and there were still quite a few who have yet to find a suitable partner. Some simply were not happy with their partners at all. And others, longed to be with those who had chosen to partner with somebody else.... 

Claira sat silently on her cushioned stool, nibbling on toast, poking senselessly at her eggs, and thinking of nothing but Severus, and the tender words he had spoken to her not three days before. True, he had said them under the pretense that she was unconscious and unable to hear--but that did not make their meaning any less significant. The fact was, he cared something for her. And that thought left a warm, tingling sensation in her heart. 

_"Do not fear, my sweet. I will not leave you... not while my heart still beats, and my hand capable of bringing you back,"_ he had whispered so softly, so soothingly in her ear. 

In those moments of darkness, when she could neither see, nor feel, his voice had given her hope, a reason to breath, to live... to love. No longer will she keep her heart hidden away, for there was no other being alive whom Claira wanted by her side more than Severus, to protect her, to love her with the same blazing passion that burned deep within her soul. She knew he kept his emotions locked securely behind a stony visage; exactly why, she did not. But there was kindness within him, such tenderness in his touch. Perhaps the key to his heart truly was love and patience; both of which, she had plenty of--and give it to him, she will. 

Abandoning her breakfast plate, Claira returned to the infirmary, with a new purpose abroad. Her mission would not be an easy one, she realized. But she was confident in her success; no matter how long it takes. 

Once inside the hospital wing, Claira quickly took to redressing the cots with freshly pressed blankets, using the silent activity to think over her strategy. Or rather, formulate one; she hadn't the slightest clue where to begin. _How do you woo a man like Severus Snape?_ And she was not talking just physical, but mental as well. It was rather obvious that they shared a mutual attraction; he had said so himself. Well that, and their kissing escapades more than proved her theory. No, it was his heart and mind that she was after; everything else was simply frosting on the cake! 

Nearly an hour passed, and Claira's brain was still wheeling for a plan. She hadn't much experience with relationships; perhaps a few crushes in school, but nothing serious or beneficial to her cause. Most of her time had been spent studying medicine and wizardry, with her nose buried in books rather than boys. 

Sighing in defeat, she fluffed her final pillow, and then sank wearily into an armchair by the fireplace. She could hear the faint tune of Poppy humming merrily in the storage room, and came to the assumption that the woman must be finishing off her last stash of chocolate treats from beneath the secret floor board. Chuckling, Claira glanced down, suddenly spotting a crinkled magazine that bore the title, "Spellbound; The Witches Guide to Charming a Wizard." One of the students must have left it. Raising her brow, she immediately snatched it up and began flipping through its pages. Each turn directed her to a different potion ad, or picture article illustrating amulets that could magically attract men. They were of no use to her. She wanted Severus to fall in love with her naturally, not because of some silly spell. 

Scanning through a few more pages, Claira began to lose hope of ever finding the answer. When suddenly she spotted it. Towards the back, there was a short passage, nearly hidden in the corner as if it was of no relevance to the rest of the magazine. Her eyes eagerly drank in its knowledge, beginning with the heading, "Mental Foreplay." 

  


**Mental Foreplay**

Rarely does a witch seek mental tactics to lure a mate. However, for those select few who desire a more subtle approach to courtship, you can always follow the simple, "Three Broom" theory--Bewitch, Bother, and Bewilder. 

1) **Bewitch: **Use visual stimulation as a form of enchantment (Glamour charms are always an effective method.) 

2) **Bother: **Bedevil his heart by physical persuasion, whether it be with sensuality or a stratagem (Try sending yourself a singing cherub in the form of a secret admirer; this is sure to delusion your wizard into thinking you are unavailable. Remember, we all want what we can't have!)

3) **Bewilder: **Charm his mind by ways of spontaneity (Is your wizard fond of the Dudley Cannons? Try taking a flight on his Cleansweep 15. A few dive bombs and spiral hexes are sure to fluster his robes!) 

Remember, if all else fails, you can always slip a vial of _amour serum_ into his water goblet! 

--Gwendolyn 

  
Claira chortled at the article, however memorizing its contents word for word. The theory was just crazy and absurd enough to work! Now, all she needed was the opportunity to apply it. _But, when will that be, and how?_ Then it came to her, just as swiftly as a snake coils around its prey--the Yule Ball! The night was already intended for romance. And with the soft blanket of music, dimmed lights, and her white, satin dress, Severus wouldn't stand a chance! Sweet visions began to tickle her psyche, and Claira quickly closed her eyes to envision the fantastic daydream. 

_She could just picture herself wearing the gown, with its long, flowing train and white-threaded bodice, capturing his silent stare of awe. How is eyes would glow with its silver sparkles, as he crossed the room to take her in his arms for a slow, sensual dance...._

Opening her eyes, Claira smiled, her new dress was sure to bewitch his eyes and _ensnare_ his senses! 

  
  


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Quiet was the elderly witch who sat behind her spinning wheel, threading her gowns and robes, weaving magic into their beauty. Though slow as her hands worked, she sewed skillfully. Her fingers were made to wield the sorcery of fabric; she had learned that at an early age. Morgana was now ninety, and her heart still beating strong. 

With the slight wave of her hand, several floating needles set to work, clicking and clacking, filling the gaps in her order. Softly, she began to hum to their melody, content with the abundance of robes and gowns that she needed to complete; the Yule Ball always brought good business. 

The sudden chime of entrance bells, distracted the old woman's attention from the dress she spun. Glancing up, her wrinkled lips curved into an adorned smile. There, standing before her door, one devilishly handsome man in black. Oh, how his robes swished and flowed with his elegant strides-she had designed them that way. Releasing a long, wistful breath, she watched the raven-haired stud make his way toward her. _'He would make a crafty lover,'_ Morgana thought, _'No man could move that skillfully, and not show the same cunning with his touch.'_ If only she were young again... but no, her youthful days of beauty had long since ended. And with the soft sound of gold clanking in the man's pocket as he neared, so had her fit of fancy. 

"It has been far too long since your last visit, Severus. Last Christmas, I believe, was the last time you came to call." Her eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion, as if accusing him of making purchases elsewhere. "Have my robes displeased you?" 

"Certainly not, madam," he reassured her, extending his hand to help lift her up from the stool; she was struggling to stand. "Life has been rather... _busy_, as of late." 

"Busy?" she inquired with a raised, withered brow. "With the company of a woman, I presume?" 

Silence. 

"I see," Morgana murmured solemnly, slowly weaving her way to the front of her shop. 

"Tell me, how is Albus? How are things fairing at Hogwarts?" 

"I haven't the time, Morgana. As I've said before, life is quite busy at the moment. Now, if you will, I have come to commission two sets of dress robes. One of them must be dignified and fit for travel. And the other, formal and tailored for the Yule Ball." Reaching into his pocket, he quickly withdrew a satchel of gold and placed it upon the counter. "The first, I will require by tomorrow evening, no later." 

"Now, Severus, you know how employed I already am, what with all these orders for the Ball. I couldn't possibly--" 

Rolling his eyes, Severus retrieved a second purse from his robes, and pitching it beside the previous one he had given. 

"I trust this will suffice?" 

A peacockish grin instantly formed at Morgana's lips; he knew her all too well. 

"I'll have them sent over first thing in the morning," she said with a wink. "Let's say I add a vest of color this time, eh? You could do with a few lively threads to your gowns." 

"Perhaps a spot of green... but nothing more, and keep it dark. I have no desire to draw any unwelcome attention myself." 

She chuckled at this. 

"Still upholding that sinister, shadow-dweller guise, I see?" 

"Was there ever any doubt?" He smirked. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. I assume my previous measurements will be adequate?" 

Morgana somberly nodded her head, regretful to see him go. And yet, happy to _watch_ him go, both at the same time. 

Exiting the shop, Severus retrieved his wand, and quickly conjured a second warming spell to replace the first, now weak and nearly faded. From the pale, blue sky, a light shower of snow began to fall, plaguing his black, wind-tossed, hair with white speckles of ice._ 'I must look absolutely ridiculous,'_ Severus thought hotly to himself, as he swatted the flakes away. But it was no use, the snow was ruthless, and seemed to be increasing in strength by the moment. _Damn this abominable weather! _Folding his arms across his chest, he immediately set off down the frozen trail leading to the Apothecary. In his pocket, lie a long list of ingredients and supplies that needed to be ordered for the upcoming term. 

Rounding the bend, Severus nearly collided into a young couple, too wrapped up in each other's arms to pay him any mind. Passing by, he couldn't help but stare, secretly coveting their warmth. He knew how it felt to hold a woman that close, the tremendous amount of heat her body could provide with just a simple kiss. Claira was like that, fiery lips, hot to touch... what he wouldn't give to engage in one of her sultry embraces now; her heat was sure to melt the ice from his skin. 

Tearing his eyes away from the couple, Severus pulled his coat tighter, moving on. Alone. He was always _alone_. And somehow that life didn't seem quite as appealing as it used to. As it had before Claira came to Hogwarts. _Claira_ again. Why was that damn girl constantly on his mind, in his thoughts? Even now. Can't his head function for one bloody second without thinking her name? Honestly. He was allowing himself to become far too distracted by her, by those eyes--they were bewitching. It was the only logical explanation for his current ailment. Blue. Hypnotizing. Seductive.**_ He was going absolutely mad...._**

The heavy snowfall was beginning to blur his vision, and his better sense. In the close distance, he could just make out the silhouette of the Apothecary, with its tall, wooden pillars and black cauldron emblem. As he neared the way, a small crowd of excited witches rushed past, huddling together in front of the shop window next door. They began pointing and gasping, giggling and squealing, apparently thrilled by the store's new display; it was probably some silly advertisement they saw in _Witches Weekly_. Still, Severus grew curious, and lingered behind until they were gone. 

Approaching the ice-blemished window, he wiped a section clean with his sleeve, and then peered inside. His sight quickly settled on a silver piece of jewelry. It was a necklace, nothing special. Not that it wasn't attractive, there was something fetching in its design... simple, yet intricate. The pendant was skillfully engraved, oval, with gold embossment. In it, beset a small, facetted sapphire--no, wait. Squinting his eyes, Severus examined it closer, growing more fascinated by the moment. 

It was not a sapphire, but a _Kardia Stone_. Rarely does one get to see it in its natural form, as it is often crushed and dispersed into powder; its magical properties are vital in brewing mood-enhancement potions, such as lust elixirs and stimulation draughts. When worn as a whole, it reacts to the bearer's affections, glowing bright to dim as the heart changes emotion. Quite intriguing. And the color, a radiant blue, far more brilliant than that of the common gem... it reminded him of Claira's eyes. Their beauty matched that of the stone's, almost perfectly. 

_He could just envision the pendant resting softly against her breast; its light shimmering sparkles across her skin, whilst her eyes grazed upon his with the same passionate kindle.... _

As if awakening from a trance, Severus suddenly snapped his head up, disgusted by the reflection he saw of himself in the glass. Who was that pathetic looking man? And what the devil was he thinking? Spinning on his heel, he quickly walked away, scowling, refusing to acknowledge his thoughts as anything less than pure insanity. 

Crossing the way, Severus hurriedly entered the Apothecary, before further actions could prove his logic otherwise. It would act as his second sanctuary, a temporary retreat from the wicked treachery of thought. And it accepted him, no questions asked; just the soft, tranquil sound of bubbling cauldrons, and therapeutic fragrance of freshly plucked herbs.... 

  
  
**Time passed by undisputed.... **

  
  
Emerging from the shop, Severus noticed the sky had already begun to clear, sunshine replaced snow, and the wind seemed to have settled down a bit; it was now more suitable travel weather._ It figures_. His trip to the Apothecary had been somewhat relaxing, uneventful, as it should be. He gave his list, collected a pocket full of personal ingredients for his own stores, and escaped without a minute lost... if only life on the outside could mimic such ease. 

Deciding he had time for a quick shot of coffee, Severus walked the path he had followed before, forcing his eyes to focus on anything but the jewelry shop, and its infamous window display; it was already taunting him for a second gander. Passing by, he tried to ignore the distracting sound of its door creaking open--but to no avail. Unable to resist, he stole a glance, immediately recognizing the couple that emerged to be the same he saw snogging on the trial earlier. 

"I'm sorry, love. But I simply can't afford it. Perhaps next Christmas, or the one after...." 

"I know Roger, its just... so beautiful," the young woman pouted, approaching the window display with lusty eyes. 

The man quickly pulled her into his arms, and repeatedly whispered his apology against her lips. She snuggled against him in acceptance, taking one final peek at the necklace before allowing him to lead her away. 

Severus watched them go, bewildered by Christmas and all its gift-giving pother. Why were women so insistent that a man should empty his pockets just to appease this silly tradition? Staring at the shop, he wondered if Claira expected these same endeavors. Knowing her, the answer was more likely than not. He wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find the girl had spent all her earning on endearments to pass about on Christmas Eve.... And how foolish would he look, if she were to present him with a gift, and he had nothing to give her in return? She would think him to be nothing more than a scrimpy bastard. Sneering inwardly at the thought, Severus took a haughty step toward the door--then quickly retracted it. _This is absurd!_ Jewelry was far to intimate a suggestion; it practically screamed commitment. No, Claira would do better with a short, tail quill and fresh roll of parchment. He may even purchase her an elegant inkbottle for good measure--that should do. 

_"Right. Then perhaps she could write you a nice "thank-you" note for show of gratitude. Don't be an idiot! Women crave sentiment; they thrive upon fancy jewelry and expensive trinket things. Remember, the more thee spends.... the further apart her legs doth spread!"_

Severus snorted aloud, as he was not accustomed to receiving such perverse advice from his inner conscience. But how could he possibly ignore the sheer genius in its tidings? His boots appeared to agree, for they were already in hasty travel through the door. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to inquire about the price; the Kardia Stone was a rare, and highly valuable ingredient to acquire, which easily made his trip to the shop excusable research. He was a Potions Master, after all. 

The store was small, ancient, yet well kept and generously packed with faceless mahogany counters. Candles lit their displays, casting a soft, romantic glow over the room. Severus scoffed at its ambience, as he took a quick stroll around. Peering into the cases, he sneered down at the chintzy jewelry and all the discomfort it brought; especially the large selection of engagement rings--his eyes immediately whipped towards another display. Which, happened to be a tiny shelf full of muggle trinkets. And he couldn't decipher which was worse. Why anyone would wear cheap, plastic bead things as fashionable decoration was far beyond his means of comprehension. 

Finally deciding that enough of his time had been wasted, Severus swooped up to the front counter. Behind it, sat a short, burly wizard, whose eyes were fixed upon him with a twinge of excitement. As he approached, the man stood, smiling, pointing to his eyes, and then the window display, then_ him_. And after a few moments of watching this same peculiar behavior, Severus determined him to be a mute, probably to ignorant and poor to correct it. No matter, it was neither his business nor concern either way. 

Narrowing his eyes, Severus concentrated on the wizard's movements, eventually translating them into simple conversation. 

"I saw you looking at the display in the window. Would you like to see it again?" He seemed to convey. 

Severus nodded his head, and the man quickly made to retrieve the necklace, though took special care in lifting it from the stand. He then placed it in its box, and as if he were holding a precious object that would soon crumbling in his hands, walked back over, gingerly placing it upon the counter. 

Severus crossly snatched it up, and flipped the lid open with his thumb. As he examined the necklace, the shopkeeper pulled out a large tomb and began flipping through its pages. Finding the desired text, he turned the book toward him and pointed at the words,_ "Kardia Stone."_ He then motioned for him to read the passage. 

"I know what it is, you fool," Severus hissed, snapping the book shut and tossing it aside. "How much for it?" 

Slightly startled, the man fumbled for his quill. Then after clumsily shuffling through a stack of scrolls, retrieved a blank piece of parchment and began scribbling down the price. 

Severus watched him with a set scowl, his patience wearing dangerously thin with each passing grain of sand. How many bloody numbers could one possibly write on a scrap of parchment that small? Really. 

After an obscene amount of time, the man finally set his quill down, and slid the tender across the counter; face down. Releasing a long, aggravated sigh, Severus turned it over. 

Good Merlin!

The damn thing cost nearly a full years wages! Many a slur fled his lips at that moment, along with several derogatory comments directed toward the shopkeeper and his ludicrous offer. It was absurd! Preposterous! Certainly no woman was worth that much, even if he was more than wealthy enough to spare the change. Glaring back down at the necklace, he scowled defiantly, refusing to allow the stone's similarity to Claira's beauty sway his decision. 

A few minutes later, Severus stormed out of the shop, temper flaring, cloak billowing.... and his robe pocket tightly concealing the necklace, wrapped in green velvet and lace, that was to be Claira's Christmas gift. 

  
  


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The dungeons were always desolate at midnight. Their vast, winding tunnels were cold, dark, uninhibited.... perfect conditions for one who seeks privacy in their travel. Quietly, a dark robed figure swept across the shadows, her mission being one of sinister intent. And with the dungeon's keeper locked away in his private laboratory, his mind heavily distracted, she was free to carry it out with little interruption. 

Crackling flames lit the abandoned study, warm, dim, whose owner had left in haste, unlocked and opened to intrusion. It was a trivial mistake, concocted by the delusion of trust and comfort. And deep within its silent stillness, of hanging tapestries and absent host, a soft creak echoed. 

Teresa soundlessly slipped inside, her eyes cautiously sweeping the room for any sign of movement. She found nothing, just the occasional dancing penumbra orchestrated by the fire. _Perfect_. Tossing her hooded cloak aside, she strolled towards Professor Snape's desk, allowing her fingertips to brush along its surface as she rounded the path to his armchair. His work area was neat, highly organized--typical qualities of a well-bred pure blood. And his possessions were of the highest grade, from his private manor in Ravenscar, down to the last exquisite feather on his wing quill; the man spared no expense when it came to luxury. A pretentious smirk suddenly crept across her lips. Her parents would be proud to know that their daughter was in courtship with one of the finest wizards in the magical community, not to mention heir to the Snape family fortune. 

Unfortunately, the Dark Lord did not hold him in quite so high a favor. He was... displeased, to say the least, to hear of Severus' survival; though even more so to hear about the potion he has developed for the Ministry, which could successfully deflect the Cruciatus Curse. Teresa cringed at the memory of his demented face that fateful night she informed him of the news. 

At that time, Voldemort had already learned of Snape's mysterious recovery from the death curse issued to him on the anniversary of his betrayal. It was still pending investigation. She has heard rumors of Claira's involvement, but that has yet to be confirmed or denied. Dumbledore was keeping it well under wraps, even from the Order. How could that weak, little twit possibly have saved him anyway? It was more likely that Severus used a powerful elixir; he was a genius alchemist, after all. 

Sitting down, Teresa immediately began her search for Snape's research data, and any other information conformed for the conference; Voldemort's orders. Her six-month expedition in Albania, where she was thought to be collecting rare, magical artifacts for the historical aspect of her teachings, was only half-truth. The majority of her time had been spent at the compound, training and working her way into the Dark Lord's inner circle--as a spy. Or rather, double agent, only Dumbledore knew nothing of her secret dealings. Teresa found herself wavering on the threshold between good and evil, unable to chose the correct path to follow.... If only Severus knew how truly important he was, how his love might determine the outcome of the war. The kiss they shared was promising, but not enough to keep her from executing Voldemort's plans. She needed something more, some sign that his heart genuinely belonged to her.... 

Abandoning the desk's exterior surface, she moved to the drawers, slowly rummaging through their contents in an attempt to preserve their tidiness. She searched the entire, save one. It was the bottom right, locked and warded. _This must be it._ Withdrawing her wand, she quickly began removing them, surprised at his simple choice of spells; he was growing frightfully careless. 

Once the final spell had been lifted, the draw slid open, revealing a large stack of tightly rolled scrolls. Breaking the binding on one, she stole a peek inside--finding exactly what she needed. _The Dark Lord will be pleased._ Without the proper research and formula to present at the conference, the Council will dismiss Severus' work, and shun him from any and all further inquiries. It pained her heart to think of his repercussions, but she had no other choice but to follow Voldemort's rule. One by one, she stuffed the scrolls into her robe pocket, previously charmed to hold and conceal their existence. 

The drawer now appeared empty. But she had to be sure, so Teresa slipped her hand back inside, reaching further into the darkness with her fingers until they brushed across a flat, square object. It did not feel like parchment, rather a box of sorts... possibly velvet with lace ribbon._ What the devil?_ Snatching it up in her hand, she immediately pulled it out, gasping at the discovery of a luxurious jewelry case. It was made of green velvet, and wrapped in fancy silver dressings; Slytherin colors. It bore all the characteristics of a gift intended for a woman. 

Holding her breath, Teresa quickly untied it, allowing the loose strings to flutter away. With trembling fingers and a hopeful heart, she slowly worked the box lid open._ Oh My!_ The air caught painfully in her throat as she stared down at the stunning vision before her. It was a necklace, pure silver with a soft kiss of gold, just breathtaking. Her eyes then traveled to the small, oval jewel, instantly becoming lost in its enchanting blue abyss. This was no ordinary stone...it was a Kardia! Her early years spent studying magical cavern gems enabled her to recognize its attributes. What a prize! The necklace was simply gorgeous--and costly! Those stones do not come cheap, especially when crafted into a masterful piece of jewelry such as this. It was of the highest quality, intended wear for a woman of the purest blood. Severus must have purchased it for her! 

With a pridy grin, Teresa lifted the necklace from its case, and gingerly clipped it around her neck. Conjuring a mirror, she stared at its beauty, at how perfectly it glowed against the shadow of her breast.... _Oh Severus!_ This was the sign she had been waiting for, a symbol of his eternal devotion. She couldn't possibly betray him now. 

Deciding to keep the necklace a surprise, she carefully unfastened the clasp, and returned it to its velvet box; Christmas was not so long a wait. Retrieving the lace ribbon, she quickly retied it, and placed the entire bundle back inside the drawer. She did the same with the scrolls, and then the wards, leaving everything exactly as she had found it. 

Teresa knew the consequences of her failure would be severe, but she thought it well worth enduring for the gift she would soon receive. Snatching up her black, satin cloak, she pulled the hood over her head, and swiftly disappeared into the darkness. 

  
  


========@=======@=======@=======@=======@========

  
  
**Friday, December 19th, the morning of the conference....**

  
  
Severus walked humbly beside Dumbledore, his freshly polished dress boots clapping proudly atop the marble flooring of the Entrance Hall. Poised firmly in his hand, was a black leather case, anchoring several vials and scrolls vital to the speech he would be presenting to the High Council in just a few short hours. Clad in masterfully tailored robes, Severus fit the exact profile of a wealthy Ministry official, though only half of it was true; he would soon prove his worth to complete the entire. 

Both men ventured in silence, their previous discussion, or rather _argument_, concerning Severus' lesson plans for the afternoon had long since ended. Albus would be tending to his classes, rearranging his possessions, disrupting his order--the very thought of it provoked an instant migraine. But Severus hadn't time to dwell on such frivolous matters; today would mark the foundation for his future career. Soon, his reign at Hogwarts will be over, his burdens lifted, and his life long ambition fulfilled. Yes, today was very important indeed. And there appeared to be only one other, who cared enough to even bother seeing him off. 

Pausing at the double doors, Severus stole a quick glance behind, his eyes secretly searching the Hall for some semblance of the girl he was certain would come. Not that it mattered, or that he even cared, he just thought perhaps--

"I trust you will do well today," Dumbledore suddenly complimented with pride, while placing a tender hand on his shoulder. "As always, you have my full confidence." 

"Of course," Severus acknowledged coolly. However, he was finding it quite difficult to ignore the growing sense of disappointment, which he was certain, was caused by the lack of support from his fellow colleagues--Claira especially. Claira only. He expected no less from the others. 

Albus gently squeezed his shoulder, purposely forcing his attention back to the present. 

"I am proud of you, my boy. No matter what happens this afternoon, the good or the bad, know that here, in this moment, you have already proven yourself... to me." 

Severus suddenly lifted his gaze to the old wizard, who was now gleaming back at him with a softened twinkle in his eye. It was a strange concept to learn that a man can show another this type of affection. But even more so to realize that in that instance, he wished Albus were his true father, as is own had never shown such kindness; he was either too busy traveling the land or bedding whores to ever give a damn. No matter though, he cared even less for the bastard. Clenching his jaw, Severus nodded his head and shook Dumbledore's hand. 

"Thank you, Albus. Now, if there is nothing further...." 

"Right, off you go then," he smiled, releasing his hold. "May the fates be with you, my son." 

After bidding his farewell, Severus allowed his eyes to sweep across the Hall one final time, before pushing through the double doors. 

It was a cold December morning, even more so than the last he had ventured out into. And his robes were substantially thinner; they were convenient for travel, though not quite for winter comfort. At least the sky was void of snow, and with the quick flick of his wand, he just might be able to tolerate a short journey to the entrance gate.

  
  
**Meanwhile....**

  
  
Claira's heart pounded loudly in her chest. Panic, caused her knees to buckle slightly as she ran down the corridor, her hair soaring chaotically behind her in a breeze of haste. Quidditch practice did not fare well for the Hufflepuffs that morning. Their carelessness and inability to handle the quaffle properly, had forced her to mend several bruised eyes and broken fingers; no wonder they have yet to win a match this year, their skills were absolutely atrocious! But that was of no importance to her now. The only thing that mattered was getting herself down to the Entrance Hall in time to wish Severus good luck for the conference. 

Stealing a quick glance through one of the large, double-hinged windows at the end of the hallway, Claira spotted a tall, black form swiftly moving across the grounds. Pausing briefly, she pressed her nose to the glass, immediately recognizing its long, masterful strides to be none other than Professor Snape's. _Oh God! _He has already left! And she was going to miss him! 

Barreling down the second flight of steps leading to the throne room, Claira tore past Dumbledore, barely aware of his presence; save the fact that she nearly slipped on the hem of his robe as she ran by. Using the full weight of her shoulder, she charged through the double doors, and stumbled out into the arctic climate wearing nothing but a short, flaccid skirt and thin, button-up blouse.

  
  
**Time was rapidly drawing near....**

  
  
Reaching the entrance gate, Severus inhaled a deep, elated breath, while drawing his wand. The massive, steel bars creaked loudly on their hinges, as he slowly pushed through the passing. Just over the threshold, a strong breeze whipped through his robes. And he stopped to listen; its howling winds seemed to whisper his name. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind of all distracting thoughts. Apparation requires one's full energy and concentration. And he simply cannot afford to take any risks this morning.

Moving further past the gate, Severus lifted his wand--only to pause once again. He could almost swear the rustling trees and whistling breeze was calling his name. Or has his increasing sense of mental insanity finally manifested into physical delusion? It was only a matter of time. 

_"Severus... Severus, please! Wait!"_ There! Now THAT was real; it sounded louder, and much closer than before. Spinning on his heel, he watched as a tiny figure bounded across the field towards him, waving her hands in the air, stumbling over mounds of snow. There was only one woman he knew of, who could ever move that clumsily and still maintain her exquisite beauty. And_ that _was Claira. A small curve instantly formed at the corner of his mouth. So she hadn't forgotten; he knew she wouldn't. 

He must learn to doubt less, and expect more. 

Standing still, he silently waited, following her progress with his eyes. That is, until Claira tripped over a stump, and suddenly disappeared. Dropping his briefcase, Severus immediately made to find her, but forfeited his search when he saw her head pop out of the snow. And he couldn't help but snort aloud at her foolishness; her reddened cheeks and disheveled hair reminded him of a ripened radish sprouting up from a poorly cultivated garden. _Silly girl. _

Completely flustered, Claira quickly stood, and fervidly began brushing herself off. _How absolutely embarrassing! _Leaving her dignity behind, she continued on her run, her body painfully frozen from the fall. Like a strong, venomous poison, the cold instantly numbed her skin from the feet up. And had she not left her wand on the nightstand that morning, she might have been able to save herself all this torture with a simple warming spell. But no, once again her negligence has cost her a whirlwind of trouble. Oh well, at least she'll be able to see Severus off, and that was certainly worth any discomfort she may have to suffer.

Nearing her target, Claira's pace began to slow, as her heart quickly increased in beat. Severus looked..._ different_. He was not wearing his usual lax, black robe attire. These gowns were much more dignified, tightly fitted, and precisely tailored to enhance his tall, lean form. Her eyes immediately took to admiring his appearance, traveling up from his sable, burnished boots, to his taut, contoured slacks; which left a discreet, yet perfect silhouette of his rather impressive--her gaze quickly moved to his embroidered vest, forest green, with small intricate patterns; it was beautifully sewn. Further up still, her eyes marveled at his powerful, aristocratic features; his face was freshly shaven, and his hair, handsomely groomed. _Merlin, he was a gorgeous man! _And so majestic... she suddenly felt very small and insignificant in his presence. 

"Yes, Miss Bell?" Severus inquired with a modishly raised brow. His lips quickly bowed into a grin, as he mused down at her gaping mouth and astonished expression. She always had a way of making him feel incredibly attractive, even though he knew it wasn't so. 

"I just wanted to... I mean, I was only trying to... I had to..." Claira couldn't tell which was more knotted up, her stomach or her tongue. 

Calming her nerves, she tried to recant the teachings of her magazine article. What were those words again? Oh, yes--Bewitch, Bother, and Bewilder. She chanted the words in her head like a mantra, hoping they might be of some help to her now._ Bewitch_, well that wouldn't rightly work, seeing as though Severus held the "captivating" title at the moment. _Bother_, unless bother meant being a clumsy, stuttering nuisance, that wouldn't exactly work either._ Bewilder_... now _that_ was workable. All she had to do was something spontaneous, something totally and utterly unexpected. 

Throwing all caution to the wind, Claira took a deep, chancy breath, threw her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his. Or at least, she attempted to....

The force of Claira's attack knocked Severus backwards several steps, and he had to dig his heel into the frozen earth to keep from tumbling over; the kiss had completely taken him off guard. Hooking his arm around her waist, he struggled to steady them both, eventually able to achieve a wavering, yet stable stance. 

And after the initial shock began to wear, Severus regained his wit, quickly realizing just how hot and ardent Claira's lips felt against the chill of his neck. Her soft breathing warmed his skin, whispering promises of the heat a true kiss could provide. Wasting no time in accepting its challenge, he swiftly lowered his head, and captured her mouth with his, succeeding where she had failed. Merlin, the girl tasted fantastic... felt fantastic, his body instantly caught fire beneath the sizzling sensation, soon to melt completely beneath the kindle of her embrace. Within moments, he had lost sight of his original mission, why he was standing outside amidst the snow on an early Friday morning; he suddenly didn't care. The prospect of luring the shivering beauty in his arms, back to his bedchambers for the opportunity to warm her properly, was tempting beyond all reason. 

Time slipped away, unnoticed. For Severus, it was time well spent. He had never known a kiss like Claira's before, the amount of passion two tongues could brew with just a few simply swirls--then again, no one else had ever cared enough to kiss him; well, not unless he paid them to. 

That was certainly _not_ a welcome remembrance. But it was the chance distraction he needed to regain a sliver of conscious thought. And he quickly broke the kiss, though still held her tightly in his keep; the girl was liable to freeze, after all. 

"I take it_ that_ was intended to be another one of your "good luck" kisses?" Severus smirked, remembering the first one she had attempted to give him in the infirmary. 

"Mm hmm," she hummed back, her eyes lustfully glazed over. "Not that you need it though; you're an absolute genius. All you have to do today is prove it." 

"True," he agreed pompously. Her buffet of kisses, stares, and compliments were all too appetizing a meal for his mind to refuse. 

Claira couldn't help but chortle at his response; the man was absolutely impossible! _'Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to indulge in a bit of light banter,'_ she thought mischievously to herself. It might even help sooth his nerves--if he had any, that is. For a man about to enter a snake pit, Severus seemed rather cool and collected._ But didn't he always?_

"You can be such an arrogant prick sometimes. Do you know that?"

"I do," he mouthed silkily, amusement dancing in his gaze. Pulling her closer, his lips were set on stealing another kiss--but the sudden, loud ringing from the school's bell tower distracted his plans for the moment. Reaching into the velvet lining of his robes, he retrieved a small, silver timepiece, glanced down at it, and then frowned.

"It's nearly time, Claira." 

"I know," she pouted, taking a step back from him. Both their bodies shivered from the withdraw. 

Tucking her fingers inside her blouse pocket, Claira pulled out a folded piece of parchment, and slipped it into the slit of his vest. He immediately made to investigate its contents, but she quickly stopped his hand.

"Wait! Don't open it now. Save it." 

"For what, exactly?" He asked, eyeing his pocket hungrily. 

"You'll find out_ if _and when you need it," whispered Claira secretively. 

Nodding his head in acceptance, he gifted her cheek a brief kiss, took a few paces back behind the gate, and then redrew his wand. 

Claira quietly watched as Severus' features shifted to a dark, serious grimace. Lifting his wand with one hand, and holding his briefcase in the other, he shut his eyes, concentrating his thoughts on the precise destination of his travel. And somewhere in between a strong breeze and loud whipping crack, he was gone.

  
  


========@=======@=======@=======@=======@========

  
  
Severus' eyes remained closed until he felt his feet hit a slick, stone surface. Reopening them, he nearly slipped on the icy pavement, but caught himself just in time to break the fall. Swiftly glancing around the darkened alley through a thick curtain of hair, he was relieved to find himself alone; no one had witnessed his blunder. Straightening his posture, he combed his fingers through the drapery of black tangles, before carefully approaching a payphone; it was charmed to appear broken and out of order. Snatching up the receiver, he dialed the four digit number the Ministry had provided him. 

"Welcome to the CCWA," a young woman's voice called through the device. "Full name and business, please?" 

"Professor Severus Snape, here to attend an invitational," he answered, while holding the earpiece upside down. Perhaps a semester of muggle studies at the University would have done him some good. 

"Hold, please." 

After a few moments of wait, a small golden badge dropped into the coin slot. 

"Please take your identification card and proceed to the security center, thank you," the voice instructed. 

Refusing to pin the badge on his newly tailored robes, Severus stuffed it into his pocket instead. He then hung the receiver back on its hook. And as he did, a portal in the shape of a wooden door manifested itself into the brick wall beside him. Twisting the rusted knob, he opened it and quickly swept inside. 

The lobby was large and spacious, and the marble flooring, frequently polished to an elaborate shine. Corinthian columns supported the arched ceiling, more than making up for its essential bareness. It was quite similar to the Ministry' headquarters, however not as complex or inhabited. 

Veering left, Severus advanced to the security post, placing both his wand and badge upon the counter for inspection. Without speaking a word, the guard set his wand on a brass apparatus, scribbled down its specifics, and then promptly handed it back. He did the same with his identification card, before directing him to stand on a small, silver platform. Retrieving a straight metal rod from his robes, the guard passed it over the full length of his body, front and then back. 

"Alright then, you're clear to enter. But mind yourself, we don't want any trouble here," gruffed the guard, before reclaiming his stool. 

Straightening his robes, Severus passed over the threshold dividing the lobby from his designated auditorium, casting the guard a private 'best to mind _yourself _around me' sneer along the way. 

Traveling down a narrow hallway, lined with white-corniced walls, Severus soon came upon a second counter. It was also made of marble; much like the rest of the prestige establishment. Behind it, sat a young girl, who looked as though she had just been plucked from the classroom--not Hogwarts, of course; he would have recognized her. But she was no different from the usual, witless sort, twiddling her hair with her fingers; making obnoxious popping noises with the candy she chewed....

His fist clenched irritably around his briefcase handle. 

"Welcome to the CCWA. How may I assist you?" She droned out, reciting lines rather than polite conversation.

"I have an appointment," Severus stated flatly. 

"And your name is?" 

"Professor Severus Snape." He watched as she snatched up a quill and ran its tip along a list of names. She stopped at his, scribbled nonsense next to it, then handed him the scroll to sign. 

"Must be pretty important that," her eyes fell to his black leather case, while rocking excitedly to and fro in her swivel chair. "They only use auditorium three when dealing with secret Ministry affairs. I'm not exactly sure, but I've heard rumors about a new potion that could--" 

"Hold your tongue, you stupid girl," Severus hissed, shoving the parchment back across the counter. He couldn't have the twit blurting out classified information for all to hear. Who the devil hired this dolt anyway?

"Oh, right. Don't worry though, your secrets are safe with me, Mr. Snape--"

"That's _Professor_ Snape to you, madam," he snapped, leering at her with a set scowl. "You would do well to mind your manners and address your superiors accordingly." 

Had she been his student, he would not have hesitated to deduct fifty points, for her severe lack of courtesy. 

"Yes, sir," she choked, suddenly shifting to straighten her posture; something about his strong voice and mastery visage induced her to submit to his authority. 

"The next time we meet, I shall expect no less from you, than to keep your mouth shut and enforce the proper respect. Do I make myself clear?"

A passing official nodded his head in agreement, casting Severus a silent glance of approval that seemed to say, _"You tell her, lad!"_

"Of course,_ Professor Snape_, I do apologize," she replied, her tone dressed in politeness for fear of losing her job. "Please proceed to your right. And your door will be at the end of the corridor, auditorium three."

Minutes later, Severus found himself sitting on a small, cushioned bench just opposite the door. Occasionally, a Council member would swoop inside, offering him a quick nod, or muttered, "Good morning." And as they prepared for a private pre-discussion inside, he waited patiently outside, running through his notes, reorganizing his scrolls, and silently reciting lines from his speech. 

To any onlooker, Severus would appear rather relaxed and indifferent to the forthcoming events; it was an acquired skill, adopted from years spent playing the illustrious roll of double agent. However, closer inspection would reveal quite the contrary; his palms were sweating pools of anxiety, and his body temperature was rapidly searing towards the verge of spontaneous combustion. So he was nervous. Who wouldn't be? Standing before a panel of voracious, bloodthirsty lions equipped with nothing but your skin and wit, isn't exactly a holiday on the Isle of Nymphs; he would sooner step on the toes of a sleeping dragon, than face the scrutiny of the Ministry's High Council. But, it was a necessary affliction he must endure in order to achieve his ultimate goal--to become one of those voracious, bloodthirsty lions himself.

With one swift, discreet motion, Severus wiped his hands dry on his vest, using the guise of adjusting his cloak as cover. Upon doing so, his fingers brushed across his pocket, reminding him of the secret note Claira had gifted him earlier. Sweeping his eyes across the corridor, he gingerly extracted it, cupping the folded parchment in his palm in a shameless attempt to shield its existence. He then dropped his hands to his lap, and slowly, cautiously, unfolded it. 

A smile instantly threatened to assault his lips.

The message consisted of a single lipstick mark pressed into the shape of a kiss. Beneath it, were the words, _"Just in case!"_ It was a sweet sentiment, silly, but considerate just the same. How typical of the girl to compose such a foolish gesture. And yet, somehow, it pacified his nerves. The contour of her delicate mouth, showcased in brilliant red, was distracting to say the least. 

Refolding the parchment, he slipped it back inside his pocket just in time to hear the steel door to his future open. 

"Professor Snape, the Council is ready for you now."

Nodding his head, Severus stood, his confidence scorching the eyes of all who dared a glance his way. He _will _do well today; his speech was flawless, his research was skillfully choreographed, and his potion was no less than perfect. 

Besides, he had no intentions of letting down his_ best _girl....

  
  


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Claira's gaze lingered hypnotically on the hourglass purged upon Madam Pomfrey's desk. With all her chores complete, and no wounds to mend, she had nothing better to do than sit and wait for her shift to expire. In the meantime, her mind reeled on thoughts of Professor Snape, and how his conference had fared. Perfect no doubt. But still, she was dying from anticipation--she just had to know! And he wasn't at dinner to tell her. 

The instant the first grain of sand fell upon the ninth hour, Claira tore out of the infirmary, murmuring a quick "Goodnight," to Poppy as she raced down to the dungeons to find out for herself. 

Standing just outside his study door, Claira took a moment to pat the wrinkles out of her skirt and blouse, before giving it a gentle knock. 

There was no answer. 

Should she enter on her own? Severus _did_ give her permission to visit his chambers any time she liked. And what harm would there be in awaiting his return? It was innocent enough. Biting her lip, Claira clutched the handle, feeling its cold, silver surface suddenly warm beneath her touch. Glancing down, she caught a brief glimpse of green light surround her fingers, before hearing the lock turn over; he must have warded it with a recognition charm. 

Pushing through the heavy oak, Claira proceeded inside, almost instantly feeling guilty for disturbing the study's silent peace. The room was uniquely still and dim, she noticed, however comfortably warm and inviting. And his scent lingered everywhere, causing her pulse to race and heart to skip a beat; only Severus had the power to excite her with just the slightest hint of his presence. 

Not wanting to overstep her boundaries, Claira decided to confide in the safety of his leather sofa. It would most likely anger him to walk in and catch her snooping through his things--even though her womanly instincts urged her to do so. Sitting down, she stared impatiently into the fire, wondering how much longer he would be, and what could possibly be keeping him. _Surely the conference had ended by now?_

After a half hour or so of shifting her gaze and body to accommodate her growing boredom, Claira decided to occupy her mind with a book. Standing, she swiftly approached the nearest assortment, and then ran her fingers along the tombs, whispering their titles aloud. Upon the fourth shelf, she stopped at a red one named, "Magical Herbs and their Healing Properties." Pulling it out, she noticed its cover was still in mint condition, and the binding had never been broken. Tucking it under her arm, she examined another, and then another, all of which related to medicine, and all of which were brand new... Personal _collection_ of reference tombs, indeed! That fibbing snake had just purchased these! There were at least six shelves of newly acquired books, as compared to the three that held a worn, thoroughly used sort._ If Severus wanted her to visit him, why didn't he just say so?_ He didn't have to lie to earn her company. She would have come willing, silly books or not. 

Rolling her eyes, Claira kept the one she had originally selected, and brought it back to the sofa; most likely she was in for a long wait. Kicking off her shoes, she folded her legs beneath her, and settled herself in for the night. 

  
  
**Midnight....**

  
  
Severus forced his way through the double doors leading to the Entrance Hall. There was a slight stagger in his walk, and the faintest hint of liquor on his breath. Following the succession of his conference, Cornelius Fudge, and various other members from the Council, had invited him back to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, or two... or three. He lost count. Either way, it was an honorable invitation he simply couldn't refuse. Besides, its not as if anyone had missed him, the castle appeared quite vacant--not a single, uncaring soul about to hear his tale of utter triumph. He was bloody brilliant! Where the devil is Dumbledore? Better yet, where's his little chit? Another hot, lecherous kiss was definitely in order. 

Sweeping his hazy eyes towards the staircase, Severus approached it with a mischievous grin, intent on seeking Claira out for a bit of "after-party" entertainment. No woman kisses a man that passionately without wanting a peek in his trousers. That being the case, he had a generously_ big_ surprise waiting for her just beyond his zipper clasp. 

Starting up the stairs that would eventually lead him to her bedroom, he began to waver dangerously on the third step, wobbled on the fourth, and then stumbled down them on the fifth; he quickly caught the rail with his arm, and leaned against it until the world ceased its spinning. 

Deciding a second attempt would mostly get him killed, and waking the girl at midnight for a romp in the sack probably wouldn't go over all that well anyway, Severus set on a path to his chambers instead. All the while, maneuvering through the dungeons' darkened tunnels in a less than graceful manner; the wall had run into him twice.

Reaching his study, he fumbled through the door, and stripped off his robes the moment he stepped inside. His cloak was the first to go, followed by his vest, and then several buttons from his undershirt. The belt was the last to be tossed on the floor, as he wove a direct path to his liquor cabinet. Flipping the latch, he filed through the bottles in search for another lick of brandy; it was his future colleagues' preferred choice of drink. 

Spotting the flask, Severus reached his hand inside, knocking over a small vial of sobering solution along the way. Pausing, he snatched it up, and stared at its fizzling, green contents with utter loathing. It reminded him of the holiday staff meeting that must be attended in the morning. And thinking of the irreparable scolding he would most likely receive from Albus should he show up hung over, he grudgingly twisted off the cork and guzzled it down instead.

It took a few moments to take effect, but when it finally passed through his system, his eyes regained their focus, his head cleared, and his brain reclaimed control of his body. 

Releasing a long, heavy sigh, Severus slowly closed the cabinet door, mentally cursing himself for acting so carelessly. He had been reckless with the bottle that evening... then again, so had his companions. Perhaps it was a test of endurance, a challenge to see how well he fared under the pressures of alcohol. Unable to recall any embarrassing confessions, he concluded that he must have passed_ that_ examination as well. All in all, his day had been a complete success.

Running a quick hand through his hair, Severus crossed the room to collect the garments he had discarded earlier; he was no slob. Folding them neatly, he placed them under his arm and proceeded to his bedchambers for a quick shower. Along the way, he draped his cloak over the couch, intent on hanging it by the door in the morning. As he did, a small whimper sounded, causing him to freeze solid in his tracks. Cautiously, his eyes scanned the room, while his hand instinctively reached for the wand in his boot. He then slowly rounded the sofa, keeping his gaze locked on the small lump beneath his cape. Grabbing the collar, he raised his wand, and swiftly tore the fabric aside. 

The moment his eyes caught a glimpse of chestnut curls, Severus dropped his arm, relieved that his intuition had worked faster than his reflexes; this time. Sheathing his wand, he allowed his gaze to fall over the sleeping beauty curled up into a tiny, round ball on the cushions. His eyes then shifted to the book loosely wedged in her hand. Gently, he took it from her grasp and replaced it on the shelf, wondering just how long Claira had waited for him to return. Stalking back over, he knelt down beside her, and tenderly strummed his fingers through her hair. Should he wake her? The girl did come to inquire about the conference, that he was certain of. And it definitely wouldn't be proper to leave her lying there on the sofa all night.

Pressing his lips to her ear, Severus softly whispered her name, utilizing the closeness to inhale her lovely fragrance; it was dangerously alluring. In return, he received no response. The girl was in heavy slumber, just as she had been the night they shared a cot in the infirmary. And he realized she must always sleep this way, deep and peaceful; Claira didn't know how truly lucky she was to be graced with such a gift. Smoothing his hand over her hip, he purposely let it linger for a moment, before gently shaking her awake. 

Claira slowly blinked her eyes open, momentarily forgetting where she was. Beside her, she could just make out the silhouette of a dark figure towering over her; the room was dim, and her vision needed time to adjust. But when it did, she immediately lifted her head up, and greeted Severus with a wide, comely smile.

"Honestly, my dear, was the book truly that boring?" He smirked.

Chuckling softly, she sat up, her hands absently feeling around her legs for the tomb. Severus nodded his head toward the shelf, and Claira shifted her gaze to see that he had already returned it. 

"It was quite interesting, actually," she replied in its defense. "I must have just fallen asleep. What time is it?"

"Half past midnight," he answered, moving to sit beside her on the couch.

"So, how did the conference go?" she asked excitedly, turning to face him with both her legs tucked beneath her. "I've been waiting all day to hear."

"It went fairly well, thank you." He lazily crossed his legs and draped his arm along the backrest of the sofa. 

Claira stared at him in silence, patiently waiting for him to continue on. And after a few moments of watching him pluck the lint from his trousers, she realized he wasn't going to.

"That's it?" She chortled. "After all that drama and suspense I suffered through today--is that really all you're going to tell me?"

"What more do you need to know?" He shrugged. 

Secretly, however, his heart was aching to tell her every intricate detail of his ventures.

"Everything! Please, Severus, I really want to hear it." She moved closer to him, placing a tender hand on his thigh. "It kept us apart for three weeks... I think I _need_ to hear it."

One look into Claira's pleading blue eyes, and he simply couldn't refuse. Her intimate words were spoken softly, persuasively, enticing him to fall for her little seduction. And in that moment, he would have given her anything she asked, anything she wanted; cost or consequence be damned. Never breaking his stare, he told her what she wanted to hear, starting with his opening thesis. 

The words poured out like a warm beverage from his tongue. And her parched ears drank them in, never quite quenched, and always thirsting for more. Soon, Severus found himself gladly recanting every specific detail just to appease her appetite. He fed her curiosity with bountiful descriptions of his demonstration, how the Council had gasped and awed when the potion flawlessly deflected the Cruciatus Curse. How he had responded effortlessly to their questions, and in the end, left them totally and utterly speechless. 

He wrapped up his tale with a glorified depiction of his standing ovation; it had Claira's mouth agape, and eyes widened in astonishment. The day could end no better.

"You_ are_ going to win the Order of Merlin! I just know it!" Claira chimed, suddenly lunging into his lap. Tossing her arms around his neck, she kissed his lips, impassioned by her excitement.

Perhaps the day _could_ end better after all! 

His arms immediately captured her waist, embracing her warm body. At the same time, his mouth eased her lips apart, and deepened the kiss with an abundance of cool, wet swirls. 

Gently pulling back, Claira wove her fingers through his hair, marveling at its silky texture. His eyes close after a few tender strokes, and she knew that it was an affection that should be repeated often; he really seemed to enjoy it. 

After a few moments, Severus reopened them, his gaze heavily subdued from Claira's thorough petting. And for a brief time, he watched the firelight dance upon her features, so radiant, so amazingly beautiful--he wanted nothing more than to please her, to fulfill her every waking desire. It was a powerful magic that she held over him, but one he willingly and shamefully submitted to. 

"Would you like to hear the rest of my speech?" He asked, as his thumb lightly caressing her cheek.

Her face instantly brightened with interest, and she swiftly nodded, before moving to settle down next to him. With her head comfortably rested on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, and her leg across his thigh, Severus was fully prepared to chat all night; he would achieve whatever means necessary to keep her in his arms.

  
  
**One hour later....**

  
  
Claira was sound asleep, and Severus had barely completed his lecture on the congenital value of Bundimun secretions. Honestly, it was essential knowledge for one who ever wishes to understand the concept of crossbreeding fluxweed in its synthetic form. 

Rolling his eyes, Severus sighed, realizing he had just wasted thirty minutes of the night discussing plant reproduction. How romantic. No wonder the girl dozed off, he had bored her to a kip. Releasing a second, much longer sigh, he dropped his eyes to her delicate form. And he watched her sleep, delighted by the sight of her rising chest and the silent warmth of her breathing. 

Unable to resist, Severus lowered his mouth, and gingerly stole a kiss from her lips. At the same time, he felt her knee slide up his leg, only to nap upon the soft bulge of his crotch--soon to be hard bulge if she made another movement like that. In the next instant, her knee slid back down, and then rose back up; hence proving his theory. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes, attempting to fight the morality battle waging inside. Meanwhile, his fingers defiantly crept to her exposed flesh.

Her skin felt like sheer silk, Severus mused, as he gently glided his hand over her milky, white thigh. He could just imagine how her nude body might look, feel, positioned beneath his. How fantastically warm and soft her breasts would be moving under his chest, as he buried himself deep inside her tight, slick heat again and again. 

A loud, ravenous groan suddenly escaped his throat, causing Claira to stir in his arms. He immediately silenced himself, his hands ceasing their sinister activities so as not to wake her and ruin this rare, gifted opportunity. 

Sighing contently, Claira nestled her cheek against his shoulder, her hot breath resuming its soft, slow-paced rhythm. And after a quick glance to her eyelids, Severus resumed his ministrations, grabbing the hem of her skirt, and gingerly hiking it up past her hip. He bit back a growl at the sight of her thin lace panties. They were Devil red, see-through; definitely not for virgin wear. He wondered whom she might be sporting them for, if not for him--they had better be for him! Or else he might likely kill the poor bastard who won her over. 

Possessively snaking his hand beneath the tantalizing fabric, he lightly squeezed and stroked her bottom, before hooking his finger under the strap to further draw them down. As he did, his free hand moved to the buttons on her blouse, carefully unfastening them until the pieces were parted, and her matching bra, revealed. His groin instantly caught fire at the sight of her erect nipples, swollen, and stretching coarsely through the fabric's transparent fibers; much like his erection was doing to his trousers. 

Smoothing his hand over the delicate one resting upon his chest, he slowly lowered it, to where Claira's palm pressed firmly against the large bulge erupting from his pants. Gently, he squeezed her hand, massaging his erection with her long, slender fingers. His eyes instantly closed, and his breathing exalted at the overwhelming sensation.

"Have you any idea how deeply you affect, you silly girl?" Severus rasped into her hair, before moving his hand up to cup her perfectly rounded breasts. 

Adjusting his shoulder, he tilted her head back, while lightly brushing his mouth across her lips; he was attempting to claim them the best he could without rousing her. At the same time, his other hand ventured down between her thighs, and hastily tucked the red panties aside for better access to her soft, brown curls. With the slightest of ease, he glided his fingers between her tight folds, surprised to discover a gaiety of hot, wet flesh. 

Unlatching his lips, Severus released a long, heavy breath, while fighting back the urge to draw his zipper down and perform all the fantasies he had been dreaming of for so long now. Dropping his hungry gaze to her face, he devoured her beauty with his eyes. How pure she looked, how heavenly... how trusting. Trusting, indeed! _Dammit_. He was doing it again; violating what he has been striving so desperately to secure. Perhaps if the girl didn't leave herself so bloody vulnerable all the time, he wouldn't be so tempted as to take advantage of it. Be that as it may, it was still no excuse, nor did it justify his behavior. 

Growling in self-reproach, Severus removed his hands, and then slowly, carefully readjusted Claira's clothing to its proper order... So he left a couple buttons undone on her blouse; he was trying his best. Leaning back, he closed his eyes, finding contentment in just listening to the soft, soothing sounds of her breathing in his ear. 

Suddenly, through the blackness of his eyelids, a much darker shadow took form, and Severus could sense the immediate presence of another entity in the room. His eyes quickly flew open, only to discovery the disturbing vision of Albus Dumbledore standing before him. _Dear Merlin! _How long had the old man been standing there? Better yet, how much had he seen? As a painful lump swelled in his throat, Severus moved to free himself from the couch, also the compromising position he was in.

Dumbledore swiftly raised his hand to stop him, a warm smile replacing the expected scowl of reprimand.

"I see no need to wake the girl, Severus. I have only come to congratulate you on the conference," Albus reassured him in a hushed voice. "From what I hear, you did a remarkable job."

Releasing a bated breath, Severus relaxed, allowing Claira's head to remain sleeping upon his chest. It felt awkward to remain in such an intimate embrace in front of the Headmaster. And yet, gratifying to learn that Albus now knew, and did not disapprove of the affair. 

"And how, pray tell, did you acquire that bit of information? I only left the Council's company a few hours ago," Severus inquired with a suspicious brow.

"Excellent question, my boy. However, I do believe some secrets are best kept unspoken." There was a sly glint in his eyes. "But I will tell you this, your standing ovation was well earned."

Severus smirked at the comment; the old rogue did have his ways.

Just then, a small moan escaped Claira's lips, and both men glanced down to witness her slight stir. But she did not wake; only snuggled up to his warmth, her fingers softly entwining through an uncovered patch of chest hair. Severus' eyes immediately shot up to Dumbledore's, as his arm discreetly wrapped around her body, hugging her closer. 

Albus watched in silence, respecting the fierce ambition raging in the younger man's gaze. He knew of his desire to work for the Ministry, to be accepted into their circle of power and supremacy. It was an honorable future. And yet, he couldn't help but mourn the small flicker of light burning in Severus' heart for the girl now present. It too held an honorable future.

"You know, Severus, sometimes in our quest to achieve great things, we tend to overlook the ones that truly matter." His gaze quietly swept over the young woman enveloped in his Potion Master's hands. "I only ask that you keep this in mind as you move closer to your goals. You'll soon discover, it's often the smaller things we take for granted, that become the ones we miss the most... when they're gone." 

Severus scoffed at the comment, oblivious to its meaning and what intended fortune lie hidden within its wisdom. The only response he gave was a brief nod and trite snort of indifference. 

Dumbledore sighed, knowing better than to meddle in future affairs and lives he simply held no control over. He had given his word of advice; it will have to be enough.

"I suppose it is rather late. We can continue our discussion of the conference tomorrow. After the staff meeting, perhaps?"

"That would be fine," Severus muttered, holding back a yawn.

"Splendid," confirmed Dumbledore. "Pleasant dreams, to you both."

Once Albus took his leave, Severus conjured a thin blanket, and carefully sprawled it across the cushions. Slipping his arms around Claira's waist, he gently lied down, pulling her along with him. He had thought to move her to the bed, but quickly dismissed the idea. If he could barely behave himself on the leather couch, he certainly wouldn't be able to beneath the soft, velvet sheets. 

Kicking off his boots, he adjusted their bodies to a comfortable position, and then slowly closed his eyes. With the door safely warded, and all expected visitors gone, he was free to join Claira in a long awaited sleep. 

  
  
**

If you read it... please leave a review. Thanks!

**

  
  


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MissThebes: The Yule Ball will be next. I promise! 

Yasmin: Divine thing: We will soon find out what Sirius' plans are. Yes, Claira got her first dose of Snape's dark side; it won't be the last. We have yet to see his full capabilities.... But we will. And it won't be pretty. Thanks for reading.

Selania: I hope you are still with me. It takes a long time for me to post, as my chapters are very long. Hopefully it is worth the wait!

Jazzchic: Does this suffice?

FireValkyrie: Thanks for your patience. Sirius has a very strange plan, its desperate, ridiculous, and completely insane... Will Remus follow through with it? We'll see. And as far as that flame review goes, some people have WAY too much time on their hands! LOL. Thanks for sticking up for me. It did stop me from writing for a few days. But your review gave me the strength to carry on again (honest). 

Ultrahotpink: Unfortunately, Poppy doesn't trust Snape's intentions, and with do cause. We will soon find out why. Thanks for reading!

Snapekisser: I love your handle! But yeah, we will definitely be seeing more of Snape's evil side, some good, and some bad. Although it may appear that Severus is turning sappy, he still has many hurtles to jump before reaching that point-if he ever reaches that point. He might come close. But Severus can't totally change who he is. And we don't really want him to. I agree. Thanks!

Elaine Lahey: They are slowly changing each other. And he is getting better, still not quite there, but better nonetheless. 

Queen of the Sacred Flames: Thank you for being such a consistent reader; you have been with me for a long time. And for this, I am grateful. Please keep reading, it gets better!

Liselle: LOL. I think he is still a man, just with beastly benefits! Poor bloke. Just wait till the chapter after the Yule ball, I think you'll be surprised. 

Fire Mage6: It's very difficult to come up with original ideas, being that there are so many great fanfics out there. But I do appreciate your sentiments and hope that you will continue to enjoy my work. Thanks!

SeverusSnape: Hey there! I enjoyed that part too. He is such a liar, but does it so smoothly! Thanks for sticking with me for so long. Just wait, there are so many great things on the way. 

Indomita: I'm glad you pointed that out. The main plot is based on how their love gradually develops and strengthens. Even though Severus won't admit it, we see that he is falling deeper and deeper for her. Which presents a problem when it comes to his Ministry career. He will have to make a tough decision. And I doubt we will agree with what he finally chooses. That will be a highly emotional chapter.... ARGH! I just gave a spoiler! Oh well. 

Lucidity: That was my goal. I grew irritated with reading stories where the two characters meet and fall in love within five seconds. It's absurd, and unrealistic. I wanted to make this romance believable. Thank you for the reassurance!

XxDarkGoddessxX: Hehehehe! All right, so I stole it from Disney! (I never read the book) but it seemed like a good idea. Hopefully I changed it up just enough to make it original. Thanks for reading!

Koibito: As you can see, it wasn't. Sorry. I tried but there were just too many events that had to happen before the Yule Ball. I'll try to post the next one sooner, but I can't guarantee anything. I am designating the whole chapter to the dance, so hopefully it won't be as long. Thanks for reviewing.

Sportzjunkie: (blushes) Thank you! Please keep reading.

AltoSaxyGirl: I was hoping you would like it. I think my writing is getting better with practice, which helps to improve the quality of the chapter. You don't know how hard I am on myself! Every word is looked up in the dictionary to make sure it is used correctly, and I check my spelling over and over-even though I still tend to miss some stuff! Thank you for staying with me. 

DreamMakerLady: Thank you for the encouragement. I must admit, that flame took several days to get over. I stopped writing for a short period of time, as I work so hard on this. That is partly the cause of this chapter's delay. That and the fact my computer lost the folder, and I had to rewrite three quarters of it! Thank you for all your help! 

TigerLily713: I hope the wait didn't change your mind. Please read on, your reviews keep me writing! 

Mattierobertson: That, my friend, was one of the best reviews I have ever received. You nailed it perfectly. Everything I was trying to convey and express was summarized in your comments. Claira is his exact opposite, and for due cause. I don't see Severus falling for a woman who is arrogant, dominating, and sassy. He doesn't want his life to be disturbed, or aggravated. Claira is safe, or so he thinks. He sees her as a hobby, something he can play with on his whim, but put away when it's convenient. He will soon find that she means more to him than he thinks. And Claira is slowly breaking out of her shell. She lived a very sheltered life, unlike Severus. He will teach her how to be strong, and worldly. And she will teach him how to trust and love. At least that's my goal. Thanks for your review. It was fantastic!

Moi: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! Thank you.

Sevyhero: Thanks for taking the time to review. It is a wonderful feeling to know people actually read it and care enough to respond. It's the only reason I continue to write.

Snape Slave: Thanks! And keep reading!

Alaterial-Darkmoon: That was an excellent review. Its always great to know my readers connect with my story. Sometimes I wonder if I am conveying my thoughts clearly. But thanks to your input, I think that I am. Please keep reading and reviewing!

Annie Black: I'm glad you enjoyed it! It was fun to write.

Angelic Rosethorn: Thanks for taking the time to read!

Rchl: Thanks! 

Carole: Another wonderful review(s). Thank you for taking so much time. You hit every aspect of the story on the thumb. You are a very intuitive reader, and I absolutely love that. Please keep reading, there is much more to come!

Strega: I am trying my best! I hope this was worth the wait. Thanks!


	30. The Yule Ball

  
  
Special Note: Warning! This chapter contains some graphic language, so take heed.

Chapter: 30

**The Yule Ball**

**Christmas Eve....**

The ginger slapping of bare feet against cold stone, whispered soft echoes down the blackened dungeon tunnel. Only a small orb of light, cast from the tip of a thin, maple wand, could be seen dancing about the stilled darkness, barely illuminating its passage. As a chilly draught swept through, Claira pulled her night robe tighter, her eyes fixed on the heavy oak door that lay just ahead. Tucking her wand away, she approached Professor Snape's study, and carefully, quietly, wrapped her fingers around the silver handle. The magical lock glowed its familiar green, before allowing her entry into his chambers. 

Poking her head inside, she stole a quick peek around, before silently slipping into the room. Her skin instantly warmed, and her flared nostrils eagerly inhaled the masculine scent of his recent presence; she hoped that he would not be back any time soon--it would be a pity for him to ruin his surprise. Not wanting to take the chance, Claira immediately set to work, withdrawing an abundance of shrunken objects from her gown pocket. Whipping out her wand once more, she began enlarging them, and quickly, yet meticulously placed them in their intended spots. 

Biting her lip in concentration, she dressed the walls with long strings of silver and green tinsel, garnished the mantel with large, red bows, and decorated a miniature spur tree with sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights. Beneath it, she arranged boxed treats and gifts for Severus to open when he awakens; it was a bit much, but Claira was certain that he had never experienced a lavished Christmas Giving before. Snickering in triumph, and a job well done, she snuck back out the door, while gently clicking it closed behind her.

**A few hours later....**

Severus awoke to the distant sound of the castle's bell striking upon its fifth hour. Groaning in discontent, he raked his hands through his moist, knotted hair, and irritably flung the covers off of his frozen body; they did little to shield the cold. He then stood from his bed and stalked over to the fire, allowing the crackling flames to warm his skin from crotch to toe._ What shame was there in a man ensuring the functionality of his most valuable tools?_ So he hasn't put them to purposeful use in quite some time, but that did not make their current polar condition any less important. Besides, he had full intentions of utilizing their worth upon the first given opportunity--hopefully sooner than later.

Shrugging off his black, silk boxers, Severus strode into his bathing room for a long, hot shower. The fact that it was Christmas morning was of no consequence; it's not as if he were expecting to receive anything.... perhaps a new book or quill from Albus, but nothing more. Stepping beneath the powerful streams of water, and amidst the thick blanket of steam, he proceeded on with his daily routine. 

While lathering his scalp with a special brew of degreasing solution, as his hair had a tendency to produce an excessive amount of oil, Severus let his mind wander. And, as expected, it settled on Claira. He wondered if she might have purchased him a gift; he wondered what it might possibly be if she had. Not that he was wanting for anything--that would be presumptuous--but it only seemed fitting that she should present him with some sort of endearment to counter his offering. _Isn't that how this ridiculous holiday works? _Otherwise, he might likely peddle her necklace off on some other poor sap caught within the obligatory deathtraps of tradition; he simply refused to be made a fool of.

Switching the water off, he irritably flung the shower's sliding door open, and snatched a large, green towel from its rack. Patting his face and chest dry, he strolled back into his bedchambers to collect his attire. From his wardrobe, he retrieved a long-sleeved, button up shirt and black trousers; he set aside his customary black tunic and cape for later wear. Stepping into a pair of identical black, silk boxers, he quickly dressed according to his selection, before ascending the steps leading to his study.

Upon entering the room, Severus nearly stumbled backwards at the ghastly vision laid before him. His eyes immediately narrowed in a mixture of anger and mortification, as they swept across the treacherous display of vandalism--an intruder had invaded his private quarters and made a mockery of his living suite! He was certain that it was a prank concocted by one or more of his students; exactly how they had managed to weasel past his wards was a matter that would require his immediate attention. It was unfathomable to think that anyone other than Dumbledore could possibly break through the barrier of hexes and curses he had placed upon that door--one must take certain precautions when faced with a breed of enemies such as his. 

Glaring up at a hanging piece of tinsel dangling just above his head, Severus hotly snaked it between his fingers and proceeded to rip its adjoining thread from off the wall. As he did, his eye caught sight of a small, ornamented tree perched upon his desk. Focusing his full view on the twinkling lights, he saw that an abundance of gifts lie just beneath. There were three to be exact, excluding the generous stack of chocolate and candy treats surrounding the spectacle. One box in particular held his interest, being that it was wrapped in the most hideous muggle paper he had ever seen. It was simply ghastly, much like the previous declaration he had made of... his... study. Dear Merlin! The silly girl had done all this. Those obnoxious entities were intended to be decorations, not hateful innuendoes. 

Staring down at the limp string of silver tinsel crinkled in his hand, Severus felt a sudden pang of guilt twist and knot up in his stomach. Stretching his arm over his head, he attempted to fix it back to the best of his abilities; it was a poor trial, but it would have to suffice. Withdrawing his wand, he performed a mild adhesive spell on the thread to make it stick, before swooping over to his desk to examine his presents.

Plucking them from beneath the tree, he sorted them into the order that he intended to open them; Claira's would be last, as it was probably the best. A flat, square box came first, and upon reading its tag, he scowled. It was from Teresa. Since when did she ever lift a generous finger his way? Lazily, he relinquished the enchanted wrappings to reveal a black, hinged case. Flipping it open with his thumb, his eyes fell upon a silver set of cufflinks, custom crafted into the emblem of Slytherin House, and engraved with his initials. It was a costly gift, however tainted by the hand of a woman whose taste was definitely lacking. Snapping the lid shut, he carelessly tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. 

Dumbledore's gift came next, and everything about it suggested a book. Loosening its strings, as it was concealed within a red, velvet pouch, Severus slipped his hand inside and withdrew a heavy tomb titled, "The Cauldron's Almanac; _A Potion Master's Guide to New Discoveries._" His suspicions were correct. And the book would be employed to its full use, as with all the others Albus had gifted him. 

Shifting his anxious fingers to Claira's present, he carefully picked it up, and then shook it slightly--there were definitely loose components inside. The gift was considerably large in size, as compared to the last two he had opened. Curiously tugging at the ribbon, he pulled its knot loose, before slowly peeling the bizarre, colorful wrapping away. Beneath it, lay a white cardboard box, sealed with muggle tape._ Honestly, did the girl not know the true functionality her of wand?_ Retrieving his own, he quickly banished the annoying restrictions, while impatiently stuffing his hand inside; it was filled with a deep ocean of tissue paper. 

Digging past its fortress, he gripped a small, plastic object, and cautiously withdrew it. For a moment, he simply stared at the silver muggle device, his lip curled up tightly in shock and confusion. _What the devil? _Then he remembered what it was, and released a loud, boisterous laugh; it was something that he had not allowed himself to do in quite a while, and his ribs began to ache and burn beneath the stretching of the unused muscles.

Glancing back down at the game station, he mouthed the words, "Gameboy Advance," whilst reading its branded label. He was thankful that Claira had removed it from its packaging before placing it inside the box; his magical constraint would not have lasted throughout the unbinding, as muggles tend to apply an excessive amount of restrictive wrapping to their products. And casting a spell within that close a proximity to its electrical attributes might have damaged the gift. 

Reaching his hand inside the box once more, he retrieved three more presents; they were accessories to the first, game cartridges is what they were called, if he remembered correctly. The first was titled, "Super Mario World." It was the one that Claira had taught him to play. And he had to admit it was mildly entertaining, in a warped, twisted sort of way. Flipping to the next, he read, "Castlevania:_ Circle of the Moon_". According to its pictures and farcical inscription, the game consisted of bloodthirsty vampires, magic, and evil creatures.... Now _that _sounded interesting. The last one was labeled, _Mortal Combat_. From what he could decipher, it was some sort of fighting game, as it showed much blood, physical altercations, and decapitation--also very intriguing.

With the slightest of grins, Severus collected the articles in his arms, grabbed a small, round tin of cubed brownies with his free hand, and made for his armchair. Leaning against the cushioned backrest, he placed the treats in his lap, inserted one of the cartridges into the device, and then flicked on its switch; the rest of the castle would not wake for another hour or so, which allotted him ample time to _examine_ his gifts before breakfast. 

**7:50 pm, later that evening.... **

Remus leaned an impatient hand against the knob of a dark, battered classroom door. Across the room, concealed in shadows, stood the lanky form of his best friend, desperate, and begging him to hear his pleas.

"We had an agreement, Remus! You can't possibly back out now."

In his tattered vest pocket, Remus could just make out the contours of a small potion vial, which implied that all preparations had been made.

"I can, and I will," he muttered sternly, holding true to his decision to end this silly game of jealousy and deception before someone gets hurt. "This little obsession of yours has gotten out of hand. Harry tells me you lie in the wake of Claira's door for days on end, you hardly sleep, and you refuse to visit Hogsmeade for fear of missing her routine trips to the lavatory. Its not normal, Sirius."

The lonely silhouette bowed his head, and stroked a thin, shaky hand through his unkept hair.

"Harry has a tendency to blow things out of proportion, Remus, you know that. And I merely follow the girl around to keep that greasy bastard from taking advantage of her."

Remus raised a skeptical brow.

"Would this be the same greasy bastard whom she willingly locked lips with a few nights back? From where I stood, Claira didn't appear too bothered by it all. In fact, it looked as if she was quite enjoy--" 

"Don't be a fool!" Sirius suddenly lashed out in anger, his eyes casting a deadly glare of silence at the memory of their shared kiss. "Anyone could see that he was forcing himself upon her." 

Remus released a long, sympathetic sigh.

"This isn't like you, Sirius, losing your head over a skirt. You aren't thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking more clearly now than I ever have before. I'm in love with her, Remus. And I know that may sound trite to you, but I am." He turned his back to him and solemnly gazed at the stars through a murky smudge in the windowpane. "I would give anything for just one chance to hold her, to feel her in my arms, to taste her sweet lips...."

Remus quietly approached him and placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder. 

"I understand what you're feeling, my friend, really I do. But you have to know that it is only a fantasy. We are what we are, and mustn't confuse reality with our dreams."

"NO! You are what _you _are," Sirius snarled, knocking the other man's hand off his shoulder as he spun around. "I am still a man, not some wretched beast sniffing the ground of poverty and licking the shoes of those more fortunate than I."

"Just listen to yourself!" Remus erupted angrily, insulted by the harsh comment. "Stop thinking with your prick and try using your brain for once. Claira thinks of you as nothing more than a silly dog, she has already chosen Severus as her mate, and there is absolutely no chance for a future between the two of you. The sooner you realize that, the better," Remus growled hurtfully as he stormed towards the door. "I have already made my decision on this, and there is nothing you can do or say that will make me change my mind. So I suggest you discard that bloody vial and start acting like the _man_ that you claim to be."

Of all the people he thought to degrade him, not once had he ever suspected Sirius would. He could not help what he was, a werewolf, and it was painful to hear the words that his closest friend had just mouthed.

Staring in disbelief, and the realization of what he had just said, Sirius swept across the room and quickly stepped in front of Remus before he could fully grip the handle.

"Remus... please. I didn't mean it," he exhausted, bowing his head in shame. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

After a few moments of silence, Remus drew in a deep, hardened breath, clapped his hand on Sirius' arm, and exhaled a slow, calm breath of forgiveness.

"I know, mate, I know." 

"I never should have dragged you into this mess; it was wrong of me. But please, if only for Claira's sake, escort her to the dance and show her a good time. She deserves that much." 

Another long pause.

"Nothing more?" He asked warily.

"Nothing more."

"Now _that _I can do," Remus grinned, before discreetly pushing through the door and making his way to Claira's room. He was already dressed for the occasion, so what harm would there be? Now that the burden of conspiracy was lifted from his shoulders, he was free to relax and spend a nice, enjoyable evening of food and dance.

Behind him, Sirius transformed himself back into his animagus, nosed out through the crack, and half-heartedly plodded down the corridor in tow.

**Meanwhile....**

Claira stood before her vanity mirror, carefully tracing the surface of her lips with a sparkling, crystal clear gloss; it went well with the silver highlights of her dress. Raising her wand, she charmed her hair longer so that it fell across her back in soft, wavy curls. She then applied a special solution to her skin, giving it a subtle, yet radiant glow. Everything was perfect. The gown fit her curves and hips like liquid silk, and the length of it flowed down her body with slits and dips in all the right places. The one trailing up her thigh was just the right height, she thought--not too revealing, but just enough to have Severus goggling. Claira chuckled at that thought. She doubted Severus would ever goggle, but perhaps a slight raise from his brow or lingering stare would do just the same.

Taking one final twirl in front of the mirror, she smiled in acceptance of her appearance, before crossing the room to slip on her high-heel, dancing shoes. They were dove white, with satin ribbons that tied elegantly around and just above the ankle; she had purchased them during her shopping trip to Hogsmeade. When she first saw them, she immediately thought of Severus, wondering if he would find them attractive on her. It was silly, being he wasn't even her partner (a matter that still tears at her heart every time she thinks of his pairing with Teresa) but she couldn't help the overwhelming need to impress him. Perhaps it was because he _had _chosen Teresa instead of her that she felt so compelled to wile his attention. _Once again, jealousy veers its ugly head._ But did she not have cause to be? He never did actually tell her why he had done so, only responded to her pondering with, _"It's just a silly dance, Claira. It means nothing,"_ or _"I don't expect you to fully comprehend the reasoning behind my actions...."_ He always had a way of avoiding conflict by choking out safe answers that neither denied nor directly answered her questions; the man was a master with his tongue, no doubt about that. 

Sighing deeply at her qualms, Claira pulled the lace tight around her ankle, and adjusted the straps so that they were decoratively spaced apart. She did the same with her other. And just as she finished tying the final bow, a soft knock sounded at her door, signaling her real date's arrival. Remus. Now there was another case all together. His behavior upon their last meeting left her feeling uneasy and confused about his true intentions. One minute he was a kind, gentle man-- and the next, he was puckering his lips and attacking her mouth with his tongue. Of course, he had been drunk at the time, but that did not excuse his conduct. At times, Claira wondered if he might be putting on some sort of act, as all the teachers and students seemed to be quite fond of him. Or maybe it was the pull of the moon that forced him to behave this way, like some sex-crazed beast; he was a werewolf, after all. Either way, he was at her door now, and she had no choice but to honor her obligation and accompany him to the dance. Perhaps one more chance wouldn't hurt. But if his lips so much as dared to come within kissing proximity, he was toast!

Standing, Claira smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and quickly tested the functionality of her heels; they would take a few moments of getting used to, but they were definitely comfortable and perfectly fitted. 

Unable to quash her female habits, she stole a quick peek in the mirror as she passed by to open the door. Pleased with the reflection that she saw, not that there was much more she could possible do to decorate herself, she gripped the handle and gave it a light tug.

Remus' eyes widened slightly as she came into view, a complimentary grin instantly forming at his lips.

"Be still my heart!" he exalted, while dramatically clutching at his chest as if his heart had actually stopped beating.

Claira chuckled softly at his silly antics, whispering a modest "thank you" in return.

"You do look lovely tonight, Claira," he said in a warm, friendly tone. "Shall we?"

He bowed politely and extended his arm for her to accept.

"We shall, but only if you promise to behave yourself," she responded playfully, however serious enough to show that she meant it.

"Right, about that-"

"You don't have to explain, really. Just promise me that tonight we go as friends, nothing else." It was an awkward moment, but Claira knew that it must be done; there was to be no confusion here.

"That I promise you," he spoke kindly. 

The calm twinkle in his eyes told her that he was sincere. Smiling, she gently slipped her arm in his and allowed Remus to lead her down the corridor. 

"By the way, you look very... erm... handsome tonight," Claira commented, trying her best to ignore the faded patches and slight tear on his robes; it was small really, hardly noticeable.

"Thank you," he said with a smile, knowing all too well that his attire was lacking a certain _charisma_. The Ministry still held tight rule on half-breeds, making it damn near impossible to find adequate work. 

Rounding the corner, they stumbled upon Padfoot, whom was awaiting them by the staircase, tail in full swagger. The moment his gaze settled on Claira, his ears perked up, and his head cocked to the side in utter awe. The prominent gleam in his eye was all too human for Remus' comfort, and he quickly ushered her past to avoid suspicion.

Sirius watched them descend the steps, his heart beating wildly at the sight of Claira. He had never seen here look more beautiful than she did in that moment, the way her sapphire eyes sparkled vibrantly beneath the torch lights, the way her hair brushed intimately across her back with each graceful sway of her hips... the emotions that she stirred was like none he had ever experienced before. Remus was wrong. There had to be a chance for him. Somehow, he would find a way. This he vowed as their shadows faded into the darkness. 

**Meanwhile, inside the Great Hall....**

Floating candles hovered above, shinning a soft glow of light over the stone, polished dance floor. Their fires burned brightly, almost as brightly as the stars illuminating the enchanted night ceiling. The House tables were no longer present, but transfigured into smaller, round ones, lining the walls (now sparkling with snow) and covered by glistening white tablecloths. A faint chime of music looped in the background, barely audible amongst the hum of chatter spewing from the crowd. 

Severus stood quietly in the corner with his arms crossed, Teresa draped on his shoulder to the right, and Cornelius Fudge conversing with Dumbledore to his left. He was sandwiched in between, sneering about at the students as he surveyed the room. He was uncomfortably out of his element, social gatherings not being his strong suite; he preferred private engagements, where conversations could be conducted without having to shout or spit words into the faces and ears of those surrounding him--nor did he fancy being on the receiving end of it.

Lazily, his eyes swept over the floor, past the oak doors, past Remus who had just entered with a young, budding female on his arm--his gaze immediately tore back to the entrance. Suddenly, the world stilled, surrounding forms became mere blurs, purposeless entities floating stale amongst the threads of time. There she was, Miss Claira Madison Bell, her body gowned in a sparkling white, satin dress, her hair falling over her shoulders in waves of soft, chestnut curls...His breathing had long since stopped, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest at the vision of Claira moving, swaying into the room. Her beauty shone more clearly, more brightly than the moon's glow piercing its hole through the thick blanket of sky. It torched the depths of his blackened soul, his heart, the very eyes that could not turn away. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the room... that he had ever seen. Oh how the fabric clung to her slender, sensual frame, perfect in every way, with rounded breasts that swelled from her bodice; they beckoned his stare. And stare he did, fire burning his pupils with a passion that he had never known before. 

Until then, he had always thought of Claira as a blossoming young girl. But tonight, she had finally bloomed into a woman. Tonight, she was a goddess.

Lifting her gaze, Claira's crystal blue eyes suddenly locked onto his. And he watched her lips form a secret smile, a greeting intended only for him--it nearly drove him to his knees. Of all the men in the room, in the universe, he was the one that she fancied; he was the one whom she was willing to give herself to--the very thought of it made his body quiver. 

How much time had passed, he was not certain. He only knew that nothing could force his gaze away. Nothing....

"Severus... SEVERUS! Did you not hear me, my boy? I just said the committee has nominated you for the Order of Merlin!"

Severus' eyes immediately fell upon Cornelius Fudge, his ears in disbelief of what he had just heard. 

"Pardon?"

"That's right, you heard me correctly. The final decision will be made sometime in late February. But if it were up to me, you'd already have it in your hands--especially after last Friday's conference, my word!" Fudge boasted. "Unfortunately, the award requires an anonymous vote from the council. Don't you worry though, you're name has become legendary at the Ministry. Not a day has gone by since, that I haven't heard the words Severus Snape muttered from someone's lips or another."

Severus stood a little prouder in that moment, his mouth battling the grin that was threatening to assault his cheeks. This was the moment he had been waiting for; it was the opportunity he needed to get his foot in the door, so to say. He predicted he'd be hired into the Ministry by start of summer... possibly sooner. _Perhaps the Department of Defense would be an adequate position to begin with. _

Beside him, Teresa wrapped her arms around his neck, and then pressed her lips to his cheek, same as a wife would when appraising her husband for a job well done. Severus discreetly shook her off, careful not to let the Minister witness his actions. For all Cornelius knew, and what he was encouraging him to think, Teresa was his intended. It was one of the specifics that the Council considered when approving an applicant. They favored wealthy purebloods, ones who showed promise of continuing the bloodline. It was the only requirement that he was lacking, thus Teresa was used to accommodate the situation.

"Congratulations, Severus," Dumbledore commented proudly, however his eyes weren't beaming with quite the same enthusiasm. His gaze seemed almost solemn, disapproving even, as it slowly moved to the spot where he had been staring only moments before.

Remembering Claira, Severus quickly looked back, only to find that she had gone off with Lupin. His eyes desperately searched the crowd, but the dimming lights made it impossible to see... he had lost her.

As the Hall faded to black, glass candles illuminated the tables, signalling the start of the feast. Everyone shuffled about to their designated areas, lifting and perusing the menus that had suddenly appeared. Severus took his seat across from Teresa, the Minister, Albus, and Minerva, dreading the obligation of dance that was soon to ensue.

Scanning the room once more, he spotted his lady in white, leaning close to Remus in whispered conversation. They were but four tables over, surrounded by Madam Pomfrey, Madam Pince, and Professor Sprout. His eyes instantly narrowed for a bit of light lip-reading, relieved to find them only discussing Potter's recent victory at the Quidditch pitch. Not that he was jealous, or anything near the sort, that would be childish. 

Staring on, he noticed Claira had ordered the _Crème del la Crème Soup_, which came with a side ration of toasted bread; she buttered it generously with her knife, slicing it first before coating the center and top. Occasionally, she would dip a small piece inside the bowl, using it in place of her spoon. She also added a pinch or two of salt, in between sips and nibbles of the outer crust....

"Severus, darling," Teresa suddenly interrupted. "What do you think I should have? The _Pâté _or the _Crown Roast Lamb_?"

"What the devil do I care?" He sneered.

"Now, Severus, is that any way to treat a lady?" Cornelius spouted with a raised brow.

"Very well. I am having the _Crown Roast Lamb_; you can select that too if you like," Severus proposed through gnarled teeth.

"No, I think I'll have the _Pâte_; the _Crown Roast Lamb_ is too dry for my liking." 

_Insufferable shrew._

The meal ended quickly, and all too soon the tables were cleared and the dance floor brightly lit. It was then that the music began to play--a soft, ghostly chime that steadily increased in beat and noise. One by one, couples staggered to the platform, clumsily stepping and swaying to the rhythm; it was a shame that Hogwarts didn't offer dance lessons to the_ lesser fortunate_--the Slytherins were all fairing quite well.

Severus glanced back to Claira's table just in time to witness Remus extend his hand to her. She accepted it with a smile, before allowing him to lead her to the center of the Hall. Hands on hip, shoulder, and the other two entwined together, they began to move, weaving and twirling through the crowd. The sight left an ill feeling in his stomach--or perhaps it was the roasted lamb. Either way, he suddenly felt very nauseous. 

Although Claira was in the arms of another man, her eyes were on Severus. He was dressed in black, fitted robes; they were quite similar to the ones he had worn to his conference in London--only a long tailcoat took place of his cape, and his vest was dark ebony with silver embroidery. The new attire complimented his lean height, perfectly tailored to flaunt his masculinity, yet just lax enough to provide him comfortable mobility; he still could glide across the room with the utmost ease without having to worry about his trousers tightening against his crotch. His hair was neatly groomed, with just a few silky strands draping his temples. And his face was freshly shaven, kissably bare and smooth to the touch. Needless to say, he looked absolutely magnificent!

Thinking back to the earlier part of the evening, Claira remembered how Severus had looked at her. There was something magical in his stare, a fire in his eyes that she had never seen before. And she smiled at the thought, knowing that the first phase of her plan had been a success. Bewitch, Bother, and Bewilder--these were the three keys to his heart--well according to her magazine article anyway. And tonight, he certainly looked bewitched! Now, for the Bother, part two of her secret seduction. The article suggested purchasing a singing cherub for jealousy purposes. She didn't have a cherub, but she did have a werewolf. And he will have to do. 

The night pressed on, and so did the couples moving and swaying across the stony platform. Bodies began dancing dangerously close to one another, as nervousness and discomfort dwindled away. Even Remus and Claira seemed to have relinquished quite a bit of space between them, Severus mentally noted with a scowl. And how many bloody songs need they dance to? Certainly not seven; one was more than adequate in his opinion.

The slow melody suddenly shifted to another more upbeat tempo. Taking Claira's hand in his, Remus began spinning her around and performing some silly sidestep that Severus had never seen before. It was stupid and droll. Honestly, the man possessed no skills, wizard or otherwise. Least he could do was hold the girl's elbow properly whilst drawing her back in from a pirl. Snorting in disgust, he subconsciously began tapping his foot to the rhythm, thinking how differently he would do it if Claira were in his arms instead.

His eyes remained permanently glued to the two, breaking contact only when addressed by Cornelius, or to hiss a "no" to Teresa when bothered for a dance.

Meanwhile, Claira kept a close eye on her dark prince, being especially careful not to stare at him for too long; she must ignore Severus and appear as though all her attention was on Remus. _'This is sure to delusion your wizard into thinking you are unavailable,'_ she remember her magazine article saying. Her actions were subtle, discreet, and yet seemed to be working their magic quite well. Even from where she was standing, or rather dancing, she could see that Severus' teeth were tightly clenched, and his hands balled into closed fists; he did this when he was angry. Smirking, Claira wrapped her arms around Remus' neck, just as the song changed to a soft, romantic ballad.

**Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the room....**

Cornelius Fudge stole a long, hard puff from his smoke pipe, and leisurely blew small, wispy rings into the air. His conversation with Albus had just ended, and his mind was free to wander about the Hall. Settling his gaze on the blond beauty at Severus' side, he noticed her lips had formed a pouty frown, and her arms were sorely crossed to express her boredom. _'Well this certainly won't do,' _he thought to himself, while giving Severus a swift nudge in the arm.

"Why don't you ask your lady for a dance, eh? Mustn't keep our ladies in waiting, you know; their feathers tend to ruffle up a bit when they aren't primped properly," he suggested in a hushed voice. 

The closeness caused a small bout of smoke to seep through Severus' nostrils and then down his throat.

"Of course," Severus muttered and choked, grimacing momentarily before extending his arm for Teresa to take; it was inevitable he supposed.

Teresa quickly slipped her arm through his loop, as he led her to the dance floor. Weaving through the crowd, Severus headed for the far, shadowy edge of the platform, furthest away from Claira. He nearly had the girl--woman--where he wanted her, and he wasn't about to muck it all up on account of a silly dance.

Stretching her neck over Remus' shoulder, Claira's heart plummeted at the sight of Severus wrapping his arms around Teresa's waist; her arms were rested on his shoulders, with her breasts plastered to his vest like metal to a magnet. Claira's eyes quickly dropped to the collar of Remus' robes, studying the droplets of lint to help distract her mind. _Why?_ It was the question that continuously looped through her thoughts. Why Teresa and not she? Claira had been aching, fantasizing about dancing with Severus all night. And there he was, engaged in a slow waltz with that floozy! Had they not just spent an entire night together, wrapped up in each other's arms on his sofa? She still did not understand the reasoning behind his choices. What made Teresa the better partner? Glances back over, she noted that Teresa was taller than she, not quite as tall as Severus, but a complimentary height for him. And her hair was a creamy blond, naturally straight and long; perhaps he preferred blondes to brunettes? Or maybe it was her age, more near to his then she was; it could be maturity and experience that wooed his decision--was she really that childish and naïve that he did not think of her as being equally intelligent? True, he was a genius, and she doubted anyone could ever match his wit. But she would like to think that she at least came close enough to stimulate his mind. 

Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and rested her chin against Remus' shoulder.

"Is something the matter?" he whispered softly in her ear, taking notice immediately that her vigor had suddenly vanquished. "Exhausted perhaps? We can sit this one out if you like."

"No, I'd like to finish it if you don't mind," she insisted quickly, needing to feel the warmth his body provided; she suddenly felt very cold.

As the song played on, Remus regarded the lingering stares and desperate sighs that Claira released from behind his shoulder coat. Finally growing curious, he rotated the dance so that he could steal a peek for himself. And he instantly spotted the object of her distraction; it was Snape, engaged in a tight nipped dance with Teresa--although she appeared to be the aggressor of the two. It was unlike Severus to behave in such a salty manner in front of the children; he did have his morals, however few and far between. 

After a few moments of close surveillance, Remus couldn't help but snort at the irony of it all... Severus' eyes on Claira, Teresa's on Severus, Sirius' on Claira (he was currently lying beneath the buffet table, sulking and drowning in his own misery) and Claira's eyes were on Snape--with the exception of Teresa, no one appeared to be with the person whom their hearts truly desired. Even he caught himself tracing the voluptuous curves of Teresa's silk, lavender dress; delicious memories of their chance encounter last Halloween tickled his subconscious mind. It was a one-time thing, but Merlin, the women knew how to pleasure a man--chalked up to experience he supposed. She had quite the reputation in school, as well as many surrounding pubs and local taverns; not the kind of chit you bring home to mother, that's for sure; it was actually quite awkward for a woman of her pureblood status.

Helpless not to stare, Claira, once again, rested her gape on Severus. But this time, and quite accidentally, she caught the pernicious eye of Teresa Silverstone. The woman then gave her such a glare that it caused her cheeks to redden and burn. As if she had some sort of claim on Professor Snape! Refusing to wilt under the other woman's silent threat, Claira held her own, casting her own daggers of warning. 

A wicked smirk suddenly slithered across Teresa's lips then, and Claira's heart began to pound in panic as she watched her lean forward and brush her mouth across Severus' ear, whispering some secret sentiment, before explicitly suckling at his lobe. She watched in horror as her tongue traced its contour, her teeth gently nipping and teasing. 

Claira immediately ripped her eyes from the gut-wrenching image, slamming them shut to suppress the pain. By doing so, she missed Severus whip his head back in anger, giving Teresa a discreet, yet thorough tongue-lashing for her unwelcome advances. His gaze then shot to Claira, hoping she hadn't seen--but she had; there was no mistaking the hurt stricken across her crimson cheeks. She was such a delicate flower, easily pricked by her own thorns. And he was a fool to think that his coarse hands could ever stroke her petals without causing them harm. 

The music ended shortly there after, and Remus quickly ushered Claira off the platform, sensing that she no longer wished to dance; he needed a break as well. Pulling out a wooden chair for her to sit, he offered to bring her a drink from the punch bar, however did not await her response before rushing over to fetch it.

Dipping the long, silver ladle into its adjoining cauldron, Remus proceeded to fill two crystal goblets with strawberry punch, careful not splash any on the surrounding ice sculptures. Just as he poured the last drop into Claira's intended vessel, a tall, dark form suddenly approached him from behind. Glancing to his right, he saw that it was Severus. The man silently selected a goblet from one of the wreath displays and lazily swirled a separate ladle into the punch pot.

"Remus," he acknowledge curtly, never lifting his gaze from the activity of his hands.

Lupin's composure stiffened at the address, as he prepared to take on any and all threats that were sure to follow.

"Severus." He nodded politely, nevertheless.

"Enjoying yourself I see?" Snape's tone was low and cold, and his fingers continued to stir ripples into the bloodstained brew.

"I am, actually," Remus responded with an astonished brow. "Claira is quite the dancer, as I'm certain you have noticed."

A moment of silence passed, as Remus replaced his dipping spoon back inside the cauldron to rest. His eyes then flickered to Severus, immediately regarding the deep frown etched upon his soured, pale face. It was rather obvious that the man was not happy with his choice in partner. And he knew that if it weren't for the attendance of Cornelius Fudge, Severus would probably have spent the evening with Claira; it was his own selfish ambitions that caused him such misery. And still, Remus couldn't help but feel guilty for helping Sirius ruin a possible relationship. As much as he hated the greasy git, he had never been one to discourage love, in whatever form it may take. It was one of life's greatest gifts that he will never be in possession of, and who the devil was he to interfere in another man's chance of finding it? 

"Listen, Severus. No hard feelings about the other night? I had no idea that the two of you were--"

"Oh I think we have finally come to an understanding, Remus," Severus began in a deep, rumbling tone, his eyes never wavering. "You keep your filthy paws and snout off my property--and I keep my wand in my pocket. It's quite simply, actually. I'm sure even _you _could comprehend it."

Remus' body began to shake and tremble in anger, his face burning a bright violet hue. It was to be the second castigation of the night, yet another deep-rooted insult cast at him for being marked with a curse that he neither conjured nor has any control over. And he was sick of it, bloody sick of it, constantly being pissed on and sneered at by every man, woman, and child too ignorant to see past their own faces.

"Is that so,_ Snivellus_? And just how do you plan on stopping me, eh? What with your prick wedged between Teresa's legs and your nose up the Minister's ass, whenever would you find the time?"

It was then that Snape's eyes, now narrowed and murderous, finally lifted from the shadows to cast a deadly stare of warning. 

"You forget yourself, Remus," he snarled, his chest heavily rising and falling with each forced breath.

"Do I? I'm not the one who gave up the company of a beautiful, young woman to lick the balls of the Minister; perhaps _you_ are the one who's confused. And if you think for one moment that Claira hasn't noticed, than you're just as stupid as you are ugly."

Not giving Severus the opportunity to respond, he swiftly turned on his heel and made for the buffet table, wearing a dark scowl to match the new, vengeful thoughts that now stirred in his head; Sirius just may get his wish, after all. 

Behind him, Severus reached for his wand, wanting nothing more than to hex the son of a bitch for insulting him in such a fashion. But for all the control he could muster, he had to resist. He did not fancy another row with Dumbledore, nor did he want the Minister to witness his ill temper. Certain sacrifices must be made. But the time_ will _come, perhaps not tonight, but one day Remus will pay for that little slip of tongue. And he'll be damned before he ever brews another drop of wolfsbane potion.

Stopping in front of a large, gold platter of cheese slices, Remus clapped the heel of his boot on the stone floor, and awaited Padfoot's acknowledgement. When the dog lifted his snout from beneath the hanging table fabric, he leaned down and spoke in a low, hushed voice.

"Meet me at the west tower in five minutes. And bring that bloody vial with you."

Without another word, he wove a sharp path through the crowd and pushed through the double doors, careful not to let his departure be known by too many, particularly Claira, who was still sitting at the table awaiting her beverage.

**A short time later....**

The tower was cold, damp, and dimly lit by the source of moonlight peeking through the crack of a small, hinged window. Pacing the marble floor, Remus lifted his pocket watch, counting the seconds until Sirius' arrival. Four minutes after eleven, the tower door slowly creaked open, and in came the towering form of his best friend, already transformed from his animagus.

"Did you bring it?" Remus asked impatiently, already feeling the shadow of doubt edge upon him.

"Yes, its here," Sirius whispered, carefully withdrawing the vial from his trouser pocket. He handed it to him with a shaky hand.

Quickly snatching it up, Remus uncorked it, plucked a hair from his head, and dropped it inside. He then swivelled the vial until its liquid contents turned a dark, muddy brown. 

"Remus... I... that is... thank you," his eyes were swimming with joy. "You don't know how much this means to me. But what is it? What made you change your mind?" 

"I do not wish to discuss it. Just hurry and drink this before I change it back again," he breathed in a rush, handing him the potion. He then turned his back to him.

As Sirius guzzled the vial, Remus began shredding his robes, until he was standing with only his cotton briefs as cover.

"Hand me your clothes, will ya? It's bloody freezing in here!" Remus shivered, rubbing his hands over his arms and chest.

Spinning around, he suddenly released a loud gasp. It was the strangest feeling to stare into the eyes of one's self. Curiously, he studied his features, tracing the rugged contours of an eerily familiar face. Merlin! Is that how he really looked? Utterly fascinated, he reached out his hand and began poking at his nose--only to have it awkwardly smacked away.

"What are you doing?" Sirius choked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by the fact that another man was touching him wearing only his underpants.

"Oh... erm...sorry, mate," Remus stuttered in embarrassment, however still staring intently. "It's just strange, that's all."

"Right, well cut it out--you're giving me the creeps!"

Collecting Remus' discarded robes, Sirius quickly dressed, and then tossed his old clothes, as well as the empty remnants of the polyjuice potion, at Remus. 

Soon, both men, completely identical and finally wearing garments, stood facing each other in utter silence. A moment passed of this, before they suddenly broke out in a fit of laughter. It truly was a ridiculous idea, one of the silliest that Sirius has thought up yet. But it solved the problem, and soon, Sirius would be able to fulfill one of his long-awaited dreams. 

"You best hurry, old boy. You only have an hour before that stuff wears off," Remus grinned, finally getting used to staring at himself; he really was quite handsome, wasn't he?

"Wish me luck," Sirius smirked. "And don't worry, I won't do anything that you wouldn't do in the same situation."

Remus raised his brow in mockery.

"That's precisely what I'm afraid of."

They shared a chuckle, as Sirius headed for the door. Just as his hand gave the knob a light turn, Remus called out after him.

"And, Sirius.... Happy Christmas."

**Back at the dance....**

The Great Hall had thinned out quite a bit since his departure; the students were most likely out snogging in the garden or empty corridors; it was a Hogwarts tradition--secret from the teachers of course. Sirius, a.k.a. Remus, immediately scanned the room for Claira, spotting her still sitting by herself at one of the small, round tables. Her eyes were fixed on a cloth napkin, which her hands had long since scrunched over into a crinkled ball. And he wondered if she had even noticed that he--that Remus had gone. She looked very upset.

Discreetly, Sirius made his way over to the punch pot, and collected her a goblet; she would be expecting a drink after his long absence. Slowly, he walked the path back to where she was, now nervous, and yet excited at the same time. In a few moments, he will be holding her in his arms, and that thought left a warm, tingling feeling in his heart. 

The shadow of his form fell over Claira's face as he approached, and she glanced up at him with a weak smile, still saddened by something. He should ask her what it is.

"Claira, darling, whatever is the matter? Surely you are having a good time?" He lowered his voice to mimic that of Remus; it was not exact, but close enough.

"I am having a wonderful time, Remus... thank you," Claira lied, while accepting the goblet. "Its nothing, really."

"Come dance with me, then," Sirius insisted, wanting nothing more than to hold her. 

"But I haven't even had my first sip of punch!" She chortled halfheartedly, bringing the goblet to her lips.

Sirius sighed deeply, and pulled out a chair.

"Alright, I suppose I can wait," he grumbled, taking his seat at the table.

He stared impatiently, as Claira casually took sips from her cup, her eyes frequently drifting in the direction of Severus and Teresa. They were standing beside the Minister of Magic, chatting about something completely boring, he was sure. And Sirius desperately tried to ignore the fact that Claira was _ignoring_ him, hardly glancing his way except to maintain politeness. 

Time was of the essence, and every moment that she wasted on Snape, was another moment that the potion wore away; they must dance soon, or his efforts would have been in vain.

Standing, Sirius gently took the goblet from her hand and placed it on the table. 

"Claira, love, I really must insist that we dance," he spoke softly, taking her hand in his.

"Remus, I..."

"Please, the Ball will be ending soon. Just one more dance, and then I won't trouble you anymore," he persisted, coaxing Claira out of her chair and onto the dance floor.

Guiding her arms around his neck, Sirius slid his to her hips, drawing her body close. And how fantastic it felt, just as he had always imagined it would. 

"Remus, I really don't think--"

"Shhh, please... just this once," he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple.

Claira was bewildered, to say the least, by Remus' sudden change of mood; even his voice sounded different. _Perhaps this is what happens during the premature stages of lycanthropy?_ Could it be possible that his body has already begun to make small transformations, before the moon has even reached its final phase? It would certainly explain his current behavior. Still, she was not completely convinced that he could be trusted. True, he had been a perfect gentleman all night, as promised. But did that earn him the right to an intimate dance--not quite. 

Stealing another glance at Severus, Claira's heart twisted a little more, as she noticed that his hand was now resting on the small of Teresa's back. She felt so betrayed, even though they had not made any commitments regarding a monogamous relationship; they had not made any promises regarding _anything_. On the verge of tears, she quickly turned back to Remus and pressed her body into his warmth, not caring how he would take it; she just needed to be held.

Closing his eyes, Sirius wrapped his arms around her, barely moving to the slow, haunting rhythm echoing in the background. All he knew was Claira, and how right it felt to hold her; he never wanted to let her go. **Never.** This is where she belongs, with_ him_. And he has been waiting for this moment for so long, counting down the hours until he could finally touch her as a man. _The time was now_. Releasing a deep, quivering breath, Sirius gingerly nuzzled his nose through her hair, secretly kissing each strand that grazed his lips. At the same time, his hands stroked her back, his fingers occasionally crossing the boundary that parted fabric from skin. 

**Meanwhile....**

Severus breathed a cool sigh of relief, as Cornelius Fudge fastened the final clasp on his travel cloak; he had decided to take his leave early. _It was not soon enough in Severus' opinion_. The Ball would be reaching its end within the hour, and he had plans of spending the remainder of it with Claira--if she would still have him, that is. He had made a mess of things, once again, he knew. It was becoming a vicious cycle. For every step taken forward, resulted in an equally distanced step back. Well not tonight, he vowed... not if he could help it. 

"I will see you to the door," Severus offered, leading both the Minister and Teresa through the crowd. 

Purposely cutting a path between two students who where engaged in a rather explicit embrace, Severus suddenly spotted Claira and Remus, dancing ever so close to one another. The bastard's hands were all over her, pawing at her hair, shoulders, and the bare skin of her back. His actions were discreet and well covered, but Severus recognized the motions immediately for what they were--he was taking advantage of her. Forcing his eyes away, he pressed on, every inch of his body trembling with rage; he will deal with Remus momentarily, but first, he must rid himself of Fudge.

Pushing through the double doors, Severus quickly crossed the Entrance Hall, now dim and deserted. Once the three reached the main door, the Minister cleared his throat, and then stretched out his hand for Severus to shake.

"Good luck with the nomination, Severus. And Teresa, my dear, make sure our Professor here is _well _taken care of," he winked, before releasing Severus' hand.

"Oh I will, Cornelius," Teresa cooed, affectionately wrapping her arms around Severus' waist. "You can count on that."

"Very good."

He then began patting down his robes, insuring that all his possessions were in order.

"Farwell," Severus insisted through gritted teeth, unable to get the image of Claira and Remus' prowling fingers out of his mind.

"Alright, my boy. I can take a hint," chortled Cornelius, thinking Severus only wished to be left alone with Teresa; she was quite the beauty, after all. And they certainly made a fair pairing.

Severus eagerly watched his departure, awaiting the exact moment when the door would finally close shut behind him. The moment then came, and Severus immediately shrugged out of Teresa's embrace.

"Our night has ended," he sneered coldly, glaring down at her for all the trouble that she has caused him.

Snorting in disgust, he swiftly turned on his heel and made for the Great Hall.

"Severus, darling, aren't you forgetting something?" Teresa smirked. When he spun back around, she hungrily scanned his robes, wondering which pocket he used to conceal her necklace.

"And what might that be?" he asked irritably.

Approaching him with swaying hips and lust-filled eyes, Teresa stood in front of him, and then slowly ran a suggestive finger down the surface of his vest; she planned on thanking him afterwards--with sexual favors, that is.

"My Christmas gift," she whispered expectantly. "Or have you completely forgotten?"

Scowling, Severus pushed her hands away. 

"I haven't gotten you anything, you impudent wench," he spat shrewdly. "So I suggest you leech out of some other dimwit's pocket." 

Once again, he turned his back to her, wanting, _needing_ to reclaim Claira as his own. The evening's restrictions were now extinguished, and he had free reign to do as he pleased. And it would please him to be with _her_.

Teresa stared after him with her mouth agape, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. _Precisely whom was the necklace intended for? _And then it dawned on her--Severus had purchased it for Claira, that filthy muggle bitch!

Vengefully narrowing her eyes, she called out to him, venom seeping from her lips.

"Brooding over your little mudblood whore, Severus? What's the matter, afraid she might fuck Remus while your back is turned?"

Severus paused in mid stride, a new rage now boiling through his veins. And the marble flooring sliced beneath the heel of his boot, as he sharply spun around to face her. His eyes were blackened and lifeless, even his movements mimicked death as he swept across the Hall, advancing upon her with the precision of a cobra strike. 

Teresa retreated in fear, taking several steps backwards until her spine slammed against a stone pillar. Severus' shadow over took her, and she watched in fright as his arm drew back. And as his hand swung around, she shut her eyelids, anticipating impact.... 

A moment of silence passed, before she cautiously reopened them, and then released a slow, trembling breath. His hand had stopped only a whisper from her cheek, but his gaze remained just as cold, just as deadly as it had been.

"You will not receive a second warning," Severus snarled in a low, thunderous voice. "The next time your tongue slips, my hand flies at will. This little game of ours is over, understand? So take heed and distance yourself--from Claira as well. You may think me reformed, but I assure you, there will be no mercy shown for a woman who knows not when to keep her mouth shut."

His eyes burned holes through her flesh, until he finally withdrew them and followed the path that he had attempted twice before. Teresa was left pinned to the pillar, tears swiftly skimming down her reddened cheeks. She quickly wiped them away and made a silent vow, devoting herself to the full services of Lord Voldemort. 

**Inside the Great Hall....**

The hovering candles in the Great Hall began to soften their glow, as midnight drew near. Sirius could already feel the affects of the polyjuice potion weakening, and he knew that he did not have much time left. Holding Claira was by far the most fantastic sensation that he had ever experienced; she was everything a man could ever want, ever hope for--he could only dream of her, for now. Sweeping his hands through her hair, he gently tilted her head back and whispered,

"I must go now. And although I know not what saddens you tonight, I can but offer you what little comfort I have with this kiss."

Leaning forward, he gently pressed his lips to hers, completely overcome by the passion that flooded his senses... mind, body, and soul. This must be love, true love.

Claira immediately pulled away, surprised and overwhelmed by his sudden attack.

"Remus, we already discussed this," she reminded him, her voice stern and reprehensive. 

"I know, Claira. Please forgive me, I--" his speech was cut short by the sound of the double doors violently swinging open. And he glanced up just in time to witness Snape burst through them, murder stricken across his strained features--it was now time to leave.

"Goodnight, my love," Sirius whispered in a breeze of haste, before quickly slipping away into the safety of the surrounding crowd.

Claira stood alone, mentally exhausted by the night's events. First Severus, now Remus breaking his promise, what else could possibly go wrong? The Ball had been a complete and utter disaster, and she hadn't even made it to phase three of her plan--it was stupid anyway. Deciding that it would be best to leave while she was already behind, Claira spun around, though only to collide into the chest of a tall, dark-robed figure. His familiar herbal and musk scent filled her lungs, causing her eyes to instantly close and breath to weaken; Severus always had this effect on her. Daring to reopen them, she lifted her gaze to his piercing, sable eyes, almost completely shadowed beneath the floating candlelight. 

"My lady?" His deep, velvety tone sent warm shivers up her spine. And Claira tried desperately to ignore the long, artistic fingers that were now smoothing over her palms; he was asking her for a dance.

Without awaiting her answer, Severus lifted her hands to his shoulders, and then wrapped his around her slender hips, gently pulling them against his own. Slowly, and with a hint of resistance on Claira's part, they began to move, their bodies naturally molding and swaying together in perfect harmony with the soft blanket of music. 

After a few moments of silence, Claira suddenly spoke, her voice weak and burdened.

"Is that what I am?" she whispered. "_Your_ lady?"

Severus stared down at her intently, entranced by the small twinkle of firelight reflected in her gaze. And in that instant, he knew that this beautiful creature in his arms would be his most prized possession. 

"_Yes_," he brashly breathed in promise. 

It was an irrational response, influenced by the deception of enchanted twilight; or rather a reckless commitment, spewed from the mouth of a delusional fool!

Claira's face, nevertheless, brightened in light of his fraudulent slip, but quickly faded back to a shadowy guard; she did not believe him to be speaking words of truth. And he did not blame her for that. After all, the majority of his actions, thus far, have been based on false intentions. He has done nothing, as of yet, that would earn him the right to claim her. _She was a smart girl_.

"And what of Teresa? I sincerely doubt that she would be thrilled to hear about another woman stealing her title," Claira lipped hurtfully. "What do you take me for, a fool?"

Pulling away, Claira made to run, but Severus tightened his grip on her, refusing to let her go without at least attempting to explain himself; or rather make excuses that might persuade her otherwise.

"I have already expressed my thoughts to you on Professor Silverstone--" he began, only to be cut off by a devil glare. It ignited an immediate reaction in his trousers; the girl was frightfully sexy when she was angry.

"And I believed you.... that is, until I saw the two of you _necking_ on the dance floor!" She hissed, her body wiggling to escape. 

Curious eyes were beginning to drift their way.

"That is quite the exaggeration, don't you think?" He smirked in defense, conspicuously moving their position to the far, shadowy edge of the platform. Once Severus was convinced that their conversation could not be reached by prying ears, he continued.

"I never returned her advances." It was a factual statement, spoken with truth and confidence. 

Claira finally stopped struggling, forfeiting her pride for the sake of argument; Severus was determined to keep her captive anyway. And she needed a new strategy.

"Perhaps, but you did nothing to stop her either," she retorted, her eyes narrowed in preparation for war.

Her puckered lips and fiery cheeks were driving Severus absolutely mad.

"Claira, I don't expect you to fully comprehend the reasoning behind my--"

"Oh no you don't!" Claira spouted, having already heard that line countless times before. "I want to hear the truth, Severus... the _whole_ truth."

Sighing deeply, he pondered the request, knowing that the truth would only further to hurt her feelings. She will just have to settle for a compromised truth, neither absolute fact nor fiction.

"You already know of my ambitions to work for the Ministry, that is no secret. What you do not know is that applicants are selected not only by their work's worth, but social rank as well." He paused to collect his thoughts, organizing his words so as not to insult her upbringing. "They tend to favor purebloods, Claira, that I will not deny. And with this prejudice comes the preference of succession; betrothed applicants are considered above all else. Now, you may have heard that_ prior _to your arrival at Hogwarts, Teresa and I attending functions together. This is true. However only on the bases of social representation; she agreed to be my escort with the understanding that it was for appearance only. It was no different tonight, except that Teresa obviously wishes to relinquish the falsehood of our relationship--which is why I have terminated the arrangement."

Claira was quiet for a time, processing the information that his lips had just muttered. And after a few moments of silence, she lifted her gaze to him, her eyes encumbered with pain.

"So, what you mean to say is that you chose to partner with Teresa because she is a pureblood... and I am not." Her eyes quickly fell to his chest. "You are embarrassed of me."

"I said no such thing," he spoke in panic, sensing that she was about to withdraw from his arms.

"You didn't have to--it's rather obvious," Claira breathed, while fighting back the tears that were rapidly building beneath her eyelids.

Severus tenderly cupped her chin and lifted her face to his.

"It was before I knew you." 

She refused his touch, pulling her eyes back down so as not to gift him with their beauty. And he immediately forced her gaze back upon him, refusing to surrender.

"It was before I _knew_ you. Do you understand?"

"_No_," she whispered defiantly.

Growling in frustration, Severus collected her tighter in his arms, straining not to shout at her.

"What do you want me to say, Claira? What is it that you _want_?"

"I want to be the one, Severus," she exhausted in her own anger and frustration. "The only one that you hold in your arms."

The surrounding world suddenly became a blur, and the only clear image that could be seen was the pair of onyx eyes, now staring down at her with such passion, such fire that it caused her insides to crumble. And then his hand brushed her cheek, his lips moving within mere inches of hers.

"Then we share a common affection," he purred in a deep, quaking voice.

Severus felt the same as she did. And _that_ was all that Claira's heart needed to hear, as it was already looking for an excuse, any excuse, to forgive him. In an instant, her fear and pain dissolved into a steamy brew of desire. Acting on impulse, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his warmth. 

Moaning in pleasure of Claira's forgiving embrace, Severus quickly, yet tenderly smoothed his hands down the bare skin of her back, while burying his face deep within her thick tendrils of hair. And then he inhaled her fragrance, filling his lungs with the intoxicating aroma of lavender and some other sweet splendor that belonged only to Claira; it was the scent of a woman on the verge of losing her virginity.

"You look exquisite tonight," he whispered coolly in her ear, further enhancing his chances of bedding the bathing beauty. "Shall we finish this dance?"

Claira nodded, not realizing they had ever stopped in the first place. 

Rocking their hips back and forth, they began to move with the slow rhythm of sound, every inch of their bodies making sensual contact, rubbing and gliding over the surprised sensitivity of clothed skin. Peering down, Severus marvelled at the sight of Claira's swelled breasts hugged against his chest. And he stared, using the guise of dance to guide her hips to and fro over his matured arousal; he wanted her so badly, so bloody badly that he feared he might explode inside is trousers right then and there.

"I have something for you," he whispered, attempting to distract himself.

"So I've noticed," Claira smirked, her mouth enticing him with its glossy texture; he couldn't bear to have her soft lips so close to his and not be able to kiss them.

"Not that, you silly girl... I mean a gift, for Christmas."

He watched a new excitement swirl in her festive eyes; she had not expected him to give her anything.

"A gift... for me? You really shouldn't have."

"I know."

It was intended humor. And it worked, because she chuckled at him, filling his heart with a new sense of purpose and pride. 

"Oh! That reminds me, how did you like yours?" She asked eagerly. 

Meanwhile, her fingers toyed with the bottom strands of his hair, playfully twirling and stroking. It felt quite good.

"It was... interesting." 

_The fact that he had skipped breakfast and spent the better part of the day thrashing at ghouls with his magical whip was of no consequence._

**"Professor Snape!" **

Severus and Claira both glanced over just in time to watch Colin Creevey snap a picture of them. Claira was still engaged in a smile, while Severus sneered viciously at the camera; he hated photographs. The boy quickly moved away to evade his wrath, eventually taking sly shots of other unsuspecting victims.

"You could have at least smiled, you know," Claira teased.

"What for?" 

She simply shook her head and rested her cheek upon his shoulder.

"So, what is it?" she whispered in his ear bashfully. "My Christmas present I mean."

The music then began to fade, signaling the start of a new song. And Severus took the opportunity to end their dance.

"I'll show you," he grinned mischievously. "Follow me."

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he led her to the double doors, and then through the Entrance Hall; they did not speak along the way. Giving the main door a forceful tug, he ushered her outside and into the grotto. 

Claira's eyes immediately widened at the sight of a beautiful rose garden, magically conjured of course, and lighted by the glow of tiny fairies resting in the bushes and flying about; it was absolutely spectacular! _The castle's enchantments never ceased to amaze her_. 

Veering off the path, Severus led her to a more secluded section, where he was certain that no one had a proper view of their activities. He then slowed their pace to a casual stroll, allowing Claira to fully take in her surroundings; he knew of her love for flowers, and thought that this might be an adequate setting to present her with the gift, a sort of romantic backdrop as it were.

Glancing down, he saw her fingertips brush against his robes, and wondered if he should. Pondering the idea for a moment, he cautiously reached down and slipped her palm into his hand. And she smiled at this, immediately entwining her fingers through his. Suddenly he felt like a schoolboy again, sneaking off into the garden for a bit of snogging before bedtime--only he had never had a proper girlfriend; his only knowledge of such activities stemmed from gossip and exaggerated dormitory tales. Things were quite different now... he now had one, or so it would seem.

Hand in hand, they walked into the depths of the garden, silently, until they came upon a towering fountain. Its waters ran quietly, softly beating the contours of a white, marble statue; its shape was of no significance, and Severus paid it no mind as he spun on his heel to face Claira. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew the velvet casing with its silver lace tie, and cordially presented it to her. 

He anxiously watched as her trembling hands accepted the gift, her beautiful face now glowing with curiosity. It was the first Christmas present he had ever given, and he felt... excited actually. However, in the next moment, as Claira peeled away the ribbon, Severus found himself sinking head first into a deep stew of pother. _What if she thought it ugly? _Indeed it was worth a full years wages, but would it fit to her liking? Beads of sweat swiftly began to form at his temples, and his hands soon melted into a clammy river of foreboding. Gritting his teeth at the thought of possible humiliation, Severus made to snatch it back--but it was too late, her delicate fingers had already worked open the lid....

A cool breeze of relief suddenly swept through, as he noticed Claira's eyes had widened in a brilliant mixture of shock and amazement. And he was free to breath again, knowing that he hadn't made a mockery of himself.

"Severus, this is absolutely beautiful!" she breathed, her fingertips lightly brushing over the precious stone. "It must have cost you a fortune."

_She had no idea._

"The price of it is not important, my dear," he stated humbly. "What _matters_ is whether or not you like it."

"Of course I like... I love it!" Her eyes fell to the necklace once again, marveling at its existence. She feared to touch it, unable to believe that such a treasure was intended for her. "But, I couldn't possibly accept this... I ... I don't deserve it."

"Nonsense," Severus argued, taking the case from her hands. 

Plucking the necklace from its confinements, he slipped the box back inside his pocket, and then stepped around her to clip it on. Sweeping her long, curly locks aside, he purposely allowed his fingertips to graze her neck, before securely fastening the clasp. 

Claira stared down at the small, oval stone, astonished to find a droplet of radiance shining in its center; this was no ordinary sapphire. Slowly it grew, until the entire jewel burst into a brilliant shower of light. It was as if Severus had gifted her a miniature star, only blue--blue, and perfect. 

"Its gorgeous, Severus...." She cooed, spinning around so that he could see for himself.

The luminosity of the stone nearly blinded Severus as he gazed down upon it. And it astounded him, to say the least; he had never seen one shine so brightly--certainly not in his presence. _What did this mean?_ Yes the stone reacts to the bearer's emotions, but never so strongly that it emits so much power and light. 

It could only mean one thing... Claira's feelings for him were genuine. No longer need he doubt her motives; she spends time with him because she likes to, kisses him because she wants to, and soon, she will make love to him because she truly desires so. And this pleased Severus,_ immensely_. Just this bit of information alone, made the necklace well worth every galleon spent. 

Taking the pendant between his fingers, he gently tucked it beneath her bodice, just between the soft curves of her breasts; it helped to shield the light from his eyes. He then cupped her chin in his hand, and whispered softly against her pink, luscious lips,

"It pales in comparison to your beauty, my sweet."

In the next moment, they were kissing, mouths parted in slow, mutual exploration; who initiated it, neither one knew for sure; nor did they care. Together their tongues danced, swirling and plunging in hot sensuality. And soon, their bodies began to move in close rhythm, seduced by the distant music echoing from the castle.

Midnight came, and so ended the Yule Ball, Christmas, and eventually, the kiss. Pulling back, Severus struggled to keep his composure; it was disturbing to think how quickly his mind slipped into oblivion when in the company of this young, circean enchantress. 

"I'll walk you to your rooms," he managed to muster, not quite ready to forfeit the night.

Draping his arm around her hip, Severus motioned Claira towards the castle, ignoring the occasional rustle in the bushes that they passed; he was in no fit state to issue detentions, nor did he wish to acknowledge the fact that his students had a greater success rate, in their trials of sex, than he. Besides, they were of age (the younger students having been ushered back to their dormitories) and there was little to be done about their sexual curiosities; it was only natural to experiment... as long as the dunderheads practice the proper contraception spells.

All too soon, he and Claira were standing before her door, staring at each other in unwelcome departure. As she made to turn the key, Severus stopped her hand, and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Shall I come in?" he purred suggestively; it was the polite way of asking whether or not he could bed her.

Claira's cheeks blushed fire at the proposition, and she immediately shied away, although her heart desperately wanted to invite him in. She was in love with him, that was for certain, but the circumstances just didn't feel right. He had just gifted her a beautiful necklace, and to sleep with him now would seem as though she were compensating him for it; she didn't want him to think that buying her things would earn him sexual favors. Perhaps it was a bit old-fashioned, but she truly valued her virginity--she has kept her innocence for twenty-four years, after all!

"I'm sorry, Severus... but I'm just not ready yet." Her eyes were pleading him to understand; she feared he might grow weary of waiting for her to decide.

He did not respond, only stared down at her through dark, brooding eyes; he was disappointed, she could tell. And when he released her hand, Claira knew that he must regret ever giving her the necklace.

Looking away, she quickly turned the lock over on her door, and made to step through. It was then that Severus slid his arm in front of her, placing his hand on the archway to block her entrance.

"Claira, I respect your decision. And never would I..." he paused to tilt her chin; when their eyes locked, he continued. "I would never force you to do anything against your will. Yes I want to sleep with you... but I can wait, and _will _wait until you feel confident with your choice. Trust me. I would never hurt you--not intentionally anyhow."

Leaning closer, he grazed her chaste mouth with his lips, while his free hand smoothed over her bare shoulder and then down the soft, warm skin of her back.

"When you are ready, I will teach you the true pleasures of a man," his mouth lowered to her jaw, kissing its slender, shapely counter. "I can be gentle, Claira... so very gentle." Lower still, his lips caressed her throat, causing her body to arch into his touch. And she moaned softly, succumbing to his coy seduction. "You have never known delectation... ecstasy... like that I can show you."

Moving further down, his mouth reached the swell of her breasts, where he lightly suckled and swirled his tongue. She gasped at this, threading her fingers through his hair. And he growled at the sensation, purposely sending its vibration down her cleavage, and eventually, to her thighs.

"Severus..." she whispered breathlessly. "I--"

Releasing his hold, Severus swiftly straightened his stance and placed his finger on her lips, preventing her from finishing his invite into her rooms. He only intending to give her something to think about, dwell upon, while he was gone.

"We will meet for our testing session next Monday... I will see you then."

Claira's eyes, nearly closed, suddenly widened in shock at his announcement. 

"Next Monday? I... I was hoping that we could spend time together this week, now that your conference is over and the children are gone. Poppy is leaving in the morning--"

"As am I," Severus interrupted. 

Her lips immediately formed a frown.

"I don't understand. Why? Where?"

"I have other obligations to attend to outside of the castle, Claira. That is all you need know."

Her lips then fell from a frown, into a pout. Sighing helplessly at the sight, Severus tenderly stroked her cheek with his thumb, occasionally sweeping his fingers through her long, chestnut curls.

"It is nothing to concern yourself with. And believe me, I would much rather be in the delight of your company, than the likes of that which I will be in come early morrow."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Claira buried her face into his robes, grieving at the thought of him completely leaving the castle. She had already suffered through three weeks of neglect, and didn't know how much longer she could stand being without him. 

"I'll miss you," she whispered in his ear, her breath warm and gentle.

Her words touched his heart, as no one had ever missed him before--only wished him gone. Quickly collecting her in his arms, Severus hugged her close, knowing that he would miss her as well. He has come to enjoy her presence, yearned for it even. And the very thought of leaving her alone troubled his mind. Who would be there to watch over her? 

"Claira, I want you to mind yourself," he ordered, squeezing her body tight. "Speak to no one. And above all else, stay away from that ruddy dog. Do you hear me? He is not to be trusted."

She looked up at him in confusion, puzzled by his strange requests.

"Padfoot would never attack me--"

"I mean it, Claira," he mouthed sternly, a queer rage burning in his eyes.

"Okay," Claira murmured. However it was only to pacify his sudden mood shift; she felt safe around Padfoot, and would need his companionship now more than ever.

Claiming her lips once more, Severus kissed her long and hard, damning the day to come. Having watched Sirius' obsessive behavior, he did not trust Claira to be left alone with him. However, since Dumbledore has scoffed at all his attempts to restrict the bastard's movements to the first floor while he was away, there was nothing to be done but give his warning.

After what felt like an eternity, and yet not quite long enough, Severus grudgingly pulled back, and then ushered her through the door. Remaining on the opposite side, he voiced his farewell. 

It took a great deal of strength to walk away, but he somehow managed the distance to his private chambers.

**The next morning....**

Just before dawn approached, Severus packed a small suitcase of his belongings, which included several shirts, trousers, and robes (both dress and casual) five pouches of gold, an entire batch of headache remedy, his degreasing shampoo, an adequate quantity of underpants, and his Gameboy Advance--for boredom purposes. 

Pushing through his study door, after having warded it from unwelcome visitors, he quietly swept out of the castle. 

The grounds were still smothered by darkness, but Severus could just make out the path leading to the entrance gate. So he followed it, blasting the snow out of his way along the journey. Nearly at the threshold, he stole a glance to his left, and caught the first peek of light rise above the mountaintops. He grimaced at the sight, and then turned towards the castle. Its towering silhouette dominated the plains, blocking his view of all but the sky; it showed promise of a black day. 

His stare lingered there, until a whipping wind forced his attention to the large, steel bars, loudly swinging open amongst the stormy breeze. He walked past them, cursing the destination that he was to travel; he did not wish anyone there... perhaps his enemies, but even that would be a cruel and inhumane punishment.

With a cold shiver, and narrowed eyes that had long since turned to stone, Severus raised his wand high and concentrated his thoughts on the exact point of apparation.

_Snape Manor._

**If you read it...please leave a review!**

Sportzjunkie: You have been a faithful reader and reviewer for months now, and for this I must thank you. And yes, I have improved on writing, I think, and so we see more in depths description and focus on detail. I feel much more comfortable now with the story, and your constant reassurance has helped me greatly. Please keep reading.

Arwen78: Hmm, Dumbledore...yes well he sees many things and keeps many secrets; that's all I have to say! I was hesitant about the whole "Mental Foreplay" insertion. I took a chance with that, and I'm glad to see that it went over well. I think the contrast between good and evil is necessary, as it creates a sort of balance. I couldn't see Snape taking interest in someone with a similar personality; he doesn't have the time to deal with a sassy chit, who is arrogant, cruel, and selfish. No, what he needs is a lot of love and patience. Thanks for reviewing.

Dreammakerlady: Claira is a very sound sleeper, but perhaps you're right, maybe she was more aware then we think wink. I worked very hard on that chapter, and it is always a joy, as an author, to read positive feedback on it. Thank you!

Sevy Hero: I think Snape may finally be ready, emotionally for the union; any sooner and she would have just been another piece of tail that was easily cast aside. But now we see that he has developed deep feelings for her, and pushing her away won't be quite as easy as he thought. I searched for your story "Wasn't" but it would not come up under the search. Do you have a direct link? I even typed in the author search, and still nothing. What am I doing wrong?

Zip: Hehehehe...I know! Thanks for the feedback.

Snape Slave: Yes, Severus is unfamiliar with such affections, and we will soon find out what sort of upbringing has led him to that. If you think Snape is bad...just wait until you meet his mother! ARGH!

SeverusSnape: I did my research to select just the right veggie for the description, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm sorry I am unable to push the chapters out faster, but I have a lot of obstacles to overcome, and my writing process is very slow. I admire those who can write fast and efficient. Keep reading!

Queen of the Sacred Flames: Please don't die...I need more reviews! LOL.

Serendipity: He appears to be growing soft, yes...or perhaps he is just trying a different strategy. We will soon find out. Thanks for your input!

Carolina: There will be many EMOTIONAL chapters ahead, as Severus struggles between the forces of love and ambition. As I have said, he has a tendency to make the wrong choices. But perhaps there is hope after all...we will have to see. I think you will be shocked, nevertheless.

FireValkyrie: Teresa does tend to spoil the mood doesn't she? She was finally put in her place this chapter, but what will become of her traitor status in the future, and how will it affect Claira? Hmmm....

Angelfire33: Is this to your liking?

Koibito: I think the next chapter is the one that everyone has been waiting for. But I think these last two have been very important for Snape's character development. We needed to see that he is falling for her mentally, not just physically. The story does not end once they have sex; it goes much deeper. Thanks for reviewing!

Severus Snape is mine: I intend to see this story to its end. It may take a while, but it will be finished nevertheless. Keep reading!

Run Wild: We have talked privately. Thank you for reviewing!

Fire Mage6: It will only get better! Stick with me. 

Lemonapril505: Next chapter, my friend. 

Chokoholicke: Thank you for taking so much time to review. And I think you are the first one to comment on Remus' predicament. He is only doing this for Sirius, and risking his reputation in the process. You also caught my little metaphors; I enjoy plugging those in from time to time. And I laughed at the teddy bear comment; I never noticed that slip up. It's a little embarrassing, but as long you got a chuckle out of it, then I guess it's not so bad! Keep reading, there is more entertainment to come, as well as serious issues that could complicate things. 

Mosrael: Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me. I put my heart into this work, and love to hear that my efforts are not in vein. Keep reading!

Goyaverouge: I think my humor is an acquired taste. Thank you for noticing, and as always, keep reviewing. Its what keeps this fic alive. 

Snapegirl51606: I will try to post sooner, but its not easy. Thanks for your feedback.


	31. What Dreams May Come

  
  
Author's Note: Yes, I agree it has been a while since I have last updated. I hope this chapter was worth the wait; I wanted to make sure it was perfect. Let me know what you think, as it keeps me motivated. Thank you. 

**WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ADULT SUBJECT MATTERS AND SEXUAL MATERIAL. IF YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO READ IT - DON'T!**

Chapter: 31

**

What Dreams May Come

**

Severus opened his eyes to a cold, marshy field, its snow only partially melted from the sun's scorching gaze. Beneath his knee, the damp grass seeped through his trousers, causing a large, sloppy stain to form there. "Dammit!" he growled in aggravation, as he jumped to a stance and spat out spells to relinquish the blot; he couldn't very well show up on his ancestors' doorstep looking like a common pauper, or worse... a muggle.

The splotch was immediately expelled.

Exhausted from his travel, as it takes a great deal of strength to apparate across such far distances, Severus propped his elbow up against one of the nearby rowan trees, and stole a moment's rest. The weather was much warmer here, still bloody cold, but not quite to the extreme of Hogwarts. And the fields displayed unseasonable greenery, kept by magic of course, save the taller pines and outlying brushwood; this was only the outskirts of the manor, yonder lay a courtyard and garden, which could not be seen from the bottom of the brook. He would have to follow the stone path over the hill... which he had already begun to walk.

Peering just over the top, Severus spotted the estate, and scowled at its grim facade. The mansion rose high above the rounded plain, shadowing the light that might have made it a pleasant sight. Then again, he doubted even the strongest of magic could ever rid the house of its cryptic appearance. Its ancient silhouette resembled a hoary tombstone, timeworn and grave, and the company on the inside was even worse for wear. He had grown up here - over there mainly, in the west wing of the manor. His eyes glared at the lancet window that was once his bedroom; it was where he had spent most of his youth, escaping only to the sanctuary of Hogwarts when time permitted.

He was now a grown man, yet still burdened with the same responsibilities that came with being an heir - a pureblood heir, no less. It was this same reason that forced him here today. _Obligation_. One day, he would be in sole possession of this monstrosity, his father having inherited it from his father, and so forth. And he would be lord of the family wealth as well - not that he needed it; he has earned his own fortune. But he was not a fool who would give up a life's worth of gold. No, he planned to sell the manor, for Knuts if needs be, and then transfer the fortune to his own vaults. Besides, he had his own dwellings in Ravenscar, wand built to his exact specifications, so what need was there in this horrid mausoleum? As it stood, the manor, along with _his_ wealth, remained in his mother's trust until her death. And that death, in his opinion, couldn't come soon enough.

Trudging up the steep walk, Severus paused at the base of the steps, staring bitterly at the massive oak doors that towered above him. It was faded now, but there hung the family crest, engraved into its worn notches. And again he scowled, knowing what company lay just beyond the other side. Despite his reluctance, he ascended the steps leading to the portico, and then proceeded to the manor's entrance. But before he had even reached the platform's end, the rusted hinges of the door slowly creaked opened, their loud screeching jabbing at his ears like a dull dagger into flesh. 

A moment of silence passed, before an aged woman appeared, wrinkles complimenting the fixed grimace that she seemed to wear constantly. Her hair was dark gray, once long and black, but now shortened and pulled back into a tight, constricted bun. His nails dug deep, painful holes into his palms at the sight of her.

"Mother," Severus acknowledged with a curt nod.

Her eyes were dull and lifeless, but as she turned to face him, they came alive. And a kindness swelled behind her pupils, an adorned affection that was reserved only for her beloved son. Severus was taken aback by the phenomenon, and as she approached him with opened arms, he stiffened his posture, not quite certain how to react.

Closer she came, until she was nearly upon him, and he dropped his bag in surprise, anticipating impact. 

It was then that she stopped, just in front of where he stood. 

"Get out of my way," she spat, before forcing her way past him.

Severus spun around in time to see another man strutting up the portico, his robes made of velvet, peacock blue, and his long, blonde hair slicked back into a girlish ponytail. He was shorter than Severus, but just as thin, and his face held many identical features to that of the woman who now embraced him. 

"Jacob!" his mother cried in glee, while her thin lips plagued his cheeks with loving kisses. 

"Good morning, mum," he grinned. "Miss me?"

Severus sneered at the spectacle, before snatching up his suitcase.

"Of course I have, don't be ridiculous." She planted one final kiss on his spoilt lips.

Together they walked up to the door, his mother's arm draped through his brother's - his _half _brother's. Jacob was not his father's child; everyone knew, but no one spoke of it. Forced into a betrothed marriage and often left alone whilst her husband strayed, Severus' mother had her own little indiscretions. He was only a lad at the time, seven years of age, when it happened. The man was a traveler from Berlin, who had come late one evening in search of his father. Only his father had already gone out for the night; that was not an uncommon occurrence. The stranger was invited in and asked to stay the night. He remembers it well; he was there... and he saw everything.

As they passed, Jacob cast him a smug nod.

"Morning, Severus. Lovely day, isn't it?"

_Arrogant prick._

Severus did not respond, only greeted him with a curled lip and creased brow. He did not like Jacob, for reasons beyond their obvious sibling rivalry. The man was worthless, peddling out of the family vaults, living his life as a philanderer - he was more like his father than _he_. What pride was there in a man who had never contributed a day's worth of work? Or lacked the desire to acquire his own wealth through succession? The bastard had never seen the likes of an earned sickle.

Severus sneered at the imbecile as he pranced through the door, and then turned to his mother, who had paused just before it to face him. Her soured eyes fell to his robes with a blatant scowl of disgust. She hated him. He was his father's son; destined to be just as foul, just as vexing, and just as perfidious as he once was. The man was dead now, but his legend lived on in the boy who had grown to take on his exact features - they were nearly identical in appearance. Perhaps this was the reason why his mother could not stand the sight of him.

"We have company tonight," she hissed. "I expect you to dress properly for the occasion. And do something with that wretched hair of yours; I won't have you embarrassing me in front of the Heltsings."

Without another word, she tottered through the door, leaving Severus outside to glower at her insults; there would be many more to come. Turning his back to the manor, he looked over the fields, the hilltops, and then past the forest, until he could see no more. It would be his last vision of freedom before Friday, when he would once again return to Hogwarts.

Staring for just a few moments longer, he removed his cloak, loosened the buttons on his frock coat, and then stepped over the threshold leading to his own private hell.

**Hogwarts....**

Three days had come and gone since Severus' departure. It was now Monday evening, and already Claira was in thrall to her feelings of loneliness. The castle seemed so empty, she thought, aside from Madam Pomfrey and the vast majority of students having gone for the holidays; not that she didn't care for them, but her heart ached for Severus, and it was _his_ absence that burdened her soul. 

Glancing down, she gave Padfoot a weak smile and gentle pat; he was lying beside her on the windowsill, his eyes closed, and head rested upon her knee. As she stroked him, her fingers sank deep into his long, black fur, causing him to awaken and groan with delight.

After a few minutes of petting, she stood and made her way to the supply store, intent on tidying up the shelves; she hadn't had a patient for days, or even a visitor for that matter, and she was growing bored with herself.

Padfoot waited until Claira entered the storage room, before hopping off the windowsill. Cocking his ears back, he began to pace the floor, first in lines, and then circles. Thoughts, confusing thoughts, spun like a wild carnival in his head, human to dog, logic to primal instinct, until at last he stilled and changed himself into human form. 

Sirius' long, pale arms shot into the air, stretching to relieve the pain in his aching muscles; they were sore and cramped from being hunched over all day. He then began to pace again, his bony, quivering fingers rubbing at his temples to clear his mind. Tonight was _the_ night - the night he would finally reveal his true identity to Claira; there was no better time. Madam Pomfrey was away, and so was Snape, so there was no chance of interruption - or repercussion - should the event go sour. He will simply sit on one of the beds, he thought, there - on that one, and wait for her to come back out. With shaky limbs, he sat down and raked his hands through his knotted hair to improve his appearance; he had already showered and shaved, as well as dressed in more presentable clothing. _First impressions were everything_. And he was hoping that Claira would at least find him handsome.

A short time later, Sirius heard the handle latch click, and then the storeroom door swung open. His heart began to pound in his chest as her footsteps sounded just behind it; their echo deafened his ears. Trembling like a madman, he stared at the door, until a flash of brown curls came into view. _This is it!_ Another moment and Claira emerged, her solemn gaze lingering on a nearby medicine shelf. As she turned, her head lifted, and her eyes began to drift his way...

In the next instant, Sirius transformed himself back into his animagus - just before Claira was able to get a proper view. And she stared at him for a moment, her brow raised as if confused about whether or not she had just seen something strange. It soon passed, and she carried on to Madam Pomfrey's desk, where she retrieved an inventory scroll from one of the drawers. She then re-entered the medicine room.

_He was a coward - a bloody, pathetic coward!_

**Meanwhile....**

Dumbledore stood with his forehead pressed against his fireplace mantel, his eyes tightly shut in grief; he had just received some disturbing news from the floo network, and was struggling to control his emotions. One of the Order members had been murdered that night. It was an ambush, carried out by a band of Deatheaters on the hunt for opposition. How could he have known? How could anyone have known? Oh God, how could he have let this happen? 

An hour passed, before Albus dried his eyes and turned his attention toward more urgent matters. He had to be strong for the remaining members; they were now all in grave danger of suffering the same fate. Somehow, their identities had leaked out, which meant that, possibly, there was a traitor amongst them. But who? And why? 

Shaking his head in dismay, Albus reached above the mantel and collected a fistful of glittering powder. He then tossed it into the fireplace and spoke in a soft, demanding voice:

"Minerva."

A moment of silence passed.

"Yes, Albus?"

He drew in a deep breath, and then said:

"I believe... a _meeting_ is in order."

"What is it? Has something happened--"

"Please, Minerva, organize the assembly; I will explain everything," he interrupted. "I want everyone present by midnight."

"Of... of course," came a fearful voice through the crackling flames; Minerva knew that tone all too well. She broke contact to inform the others.

The room fell silent once more. Lifting his gaze from the fire, Albus slowly made his way over to the window, and opened its doors to the night; he allowed the cold breeze to sweep through his long, tired beard and robes. Peering over the mountains, he searched for some invisible entity, some force that might explain the reasoning behind such evils. 

Neither seeing nor hearing anything but the faint bellowing of owls, he shifted his eyes to the moon, noticing that it had reached its final phase. Even through the misty clouds and darkened sky, its beauty shone brightly over the world. But the winds were changing, he could feel it, and soon the hand of death, too, would shadow it. They needed more time; they needed... a miracle.

**A few hours later....**

With a small yawn, Claira slipped out of the infirmary, into the hallway, and then clicked the door closed behind her. It was nearly midnight, and she was exhausted from a day's worth of brooding and boredom. Even the castle seemed to be mourning over the loss of its inhabitants, Claira thought, as she traveled along the sullen corridors to her room. 

Padfoot followed her, the tip of his limp tail dragging the floor. How could he ever expect Claira to fall in love with him when he lacked the proper courage to face her? Plopping his bum on cold stone, he watched as she turned the lock over on her door. Withdrawing the key, she wedged it back into the tight pocket of her jeans, and then made to enter the room - but paused. Lingering under the archway, she spun around and called to him softly:

"Would you like to come in? I can't stand the thought of leaving you outside here to freeze."

Padfoot lifted his eyes to her warm, compassionate smile, and then lowered them to the opened path leading into her bedroom. 

He hesitated. 

Sirius knew that he shouldn't go inside; it would be inappropriate. And yet the mere thought of lying next to her while she slept was almost too overwhelming to bear. 

"What's the matter, boy?" She cooed with a frown. "Would you rather sleep out here then?"

_Of course not._

Cautiously, he crept inside, wagging his tail.

The room was small, he noticed, and quite bare. A crimson, oval rug near the fireplace, which matched the comforter on her bed, appeared to be the only attempt at decoration. He supposed she had no need for them, really; the girl spent most of her time in the infirmary, and even slept there on occasion.

Plodding over to her bed, Padfoot leapt upon it and made himself comfortable. Rolling onto his side, his ears flopping about, he watched as Claira snapped the door shut and set the fire logs ablaze. She then kicked off her shoes, after collecting a few articles of clothing, and disappeared into the bathroom, where he heard the taps turn and water run. _Women! They were so particular with their hygiene_. Men, on the other hand, would have simply shrugged off their robes and worried about it in the morning...or the next. 

Moments later, he heard the loud splattering of water against tile; she was now taking a shower. _ Sweet Mother of Merlin! _Groaning at the thought of her naked body smothered with suds of slippery soap, he shut his eyes and stuffed his snout beneath one of the pillows. And there he stayed, struggling desperately to rid is mind of the erotic images now swirling in his head.

An eternity passed, or so it seemed, before Claira emerged from the bathroom. The light snapping of the door being opened - and then shut again - jarred Sirius' head from beneath the pillow. Glancing up, he choked, his breath having caught in his throat at the sight of her crossing the room; she was wearing nothing more than a short, cotton t-shirt and pair of white, lace panties. His instincts quickly overtook him, and he sat up panting, his tongue thrusting in and out of his mouth, while his tail swung all about. It was embarrassing, but he couldn't stop it.

"Nox," she chimed, before slipping into bed. Padfoot rolled to the open space beside her, and laid his head on the pillow, never taking his eyes off of her lovely silhouette.

Pulling the blanket over them, Claira kissed his snout and whispered a sweet "_Goodnight_" in his ear, before closing her eyes. He watched as she drifted off to sleep, her delicate chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale of soft, warm breath. And he sighed with content, having never known true, unadulterated love as he had felt in that moment. 

He too closed his eyes, wishing for pleasant dreams - though he knew that none of them would ever compare to this reality. _This was pure heaven._

**Meanwhile....**

Severus arrived on the school grounds half past midnight. He had to use a fistful of discretion during his apparation from Snape Manor; his mother would use his absence as an excuse to prove him disloyal to the family and undeserving of his father's fortune, should she find out he was gone. Her accusations would be correct, however he had future plans for his inheritance. And in order to secure it, he would have to act accordingly, even if it meant bowing to the absurdity of her holiday rules. In a sense, he truly was a _son of a bitch_.

Standing and straightening his robes, he gazed at the castle through the blistering cold, and felt a prickling shiver run up his spine; it had nothing to do with the surrounding fields of snow. Dumbledore had summoned a meeting in the dead of night, which meant that _one of the Order members would not be joining them_. The only question was, who? He did not need to know why or how; it would have been a painful, humiliating death, spawned at the hands of at least a dozen smirking Deatheaters. He was once one of them, and already knew every gruesome detail of the murder. It was even worse for the women of opposition; they were degraded in other ways, which differed from the standard torture of dark magic. 

As Severus stalked up the massive stone steps, he thought of Claira, and how he had left her alone. Of course, she would not have been an immediate target; her presence was little known and she resided within the safety of Hogwarts. Then again, what if the foolish girl had ignored his previous warnings and strayed from the castle? Just being in close ties with Dumbledore was enough to warrant a beheading. 

_His pace began to quicken. _

Charging through the Entrance Hall, and up the first stairwell, he made haste to the Headmaster's office, almost praying that it had been someone from the Order and not her. It could be anyone but her. Disturbing thoughts swam through his mind like a vicious shark circling its prey; mutilation, torture, and rape - these were just a few of the games the Dark Lord's minions liked to play. _He would see them all to hell_, Severus swore to himself, as he approached the threshold. Drawing in a deep, icy breath, he clutched the handle, swung the door open, and immediately began counting heads. He was relieved, however, to find that two of them were indeed missing.

Alastor Moody and Sirius Black.

**One hour later....**

A loud, distressed moan echoed through the dimly lit bedroom. As if struck by a bolt of lightning, Sirius tore his eyes open and lifted his head from the pillow to seek out the source. And he discovered it to be Claira, thrashing about beneath the sheets. _She must be having a nightmare of some sort_. Without a second thought, he transformed himself back into human form and leaned over her, his long, black tangles brushing her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to pacify her fears, to comfort her. So he lifted his hand to her soft, brown hair, and stroked it. 

She calmed instantly, as if soothed by his touch. 

Allowing his eyes to wander, he noticed that she was wearing a silver chain; it was a necklace that he had never seen her flaunt before. With careful fingers, he plucked the pendant from between her breasts, and examined it. The stone was oval, strangely cut, and rather ugly in his opinion. Its color was a triste, dull gray, and he wondered who might have given her such an awful thing.

Claira moaned again, this time releasing a soft whimper. Startled, Sirius dropped the amulet and returned his attention to her face. After a moment, he brushed his thumb across her temple. And she fell quiet again.

Smiling at her response to his touch, he continued, moving his fingertips to feather along her brow, over her cheek, and then down to her lips. And he remembered how it had felt to kiss her; it was only a brief kiss, but the sensation of her lips upon his conjured such a fantastic feeling that his mouth still tingled at the mere thought of it. Oh how he wanted to experience that pleasure again. Perhaps, just once more, he could steal another. 

Darkness swiftly clouded over his eyes, blinding him and distorting reality. And he lost sight of right and wrong, unable to think of anything but the desire to claim her lips. Dipping his head, he pressed his to hers with the tenderness of butterfly wings; daring to let his tongue soar across the soft, warm flesh of her parted mouth. 

His flight didn't last long.

Claira's eyes flew open, her sleep having been disturbed by a sick, strange feeling that something was horribly wrong. As her senses came to, she gasped, realizing that the wet pressure against her lips was not, as she assumed, a friendly lick from Padfoot. Where was the fur and cold, damp nose? Her eyes tore through the darkness, searching... only to find the shadowy silhouette of a _man_!

She froze in shock, unable to do anything but stare at the form hovering above her. At first she thought it was Severus, as his hair was lengthy and black, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fire, she saw that it was much longer, and his face was narrow with sunken, haunting eyes. And she recognized him then. It was the man from the posters; it was Sirius Black!

_Oh God! _He was going to murder her!

Fear rushed through her veins like a raging river; hear blood pounded in her heart as a torrent against rocks and trees. She couldn't breath, couldn't move, and all he seemed to be doing was staring at her, his expression shadowed from her sight.

The sheer terror in the girl's eyes was enough to wake Sirius from his blank stupor. And it's cold reality struck him in the chest, forcing him to weather the severity of his actions; not only had he frightened her, but he had also revealed his identity. He shuttered at the thought. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

"Claira?" Sirius whispered in a low, husky voice; he was hoping that, somehow, it was still a dream. Any moment now, he will wake. Any moment...

**SMACK!**

A stinging, burning pain hit his cheek, followed by another, and then another. Upon the fourth blow, Sirius captured Claira's hands and pinned them to the mattress. And she began thrashing beneath him in an attempt to escape; the shock of it had worn off, and her survival instincts were kicking in. But he couldn't let her go, not until he had a chance to explain himself.

"Claira, please, listen to me!" he pleaded. "I thought... I didn't mean to-"

"How... how do you know my name?" She squeaked, while trying desperately to roll him off of her. "And what have you done with Padfoot? PADFOOT... PADFOOT... **HELP!**"

She began to scream, her voice echoing loudly around the room. Sirius feared that someone might hear her, so he took both her wrists in one of his hands, and then covered her mouth with the other.

"Shish... Shish... I'll explain everything, just keep quiet," he begged. "I didn't mean for it to happen this way-you weren't supposed to see me like this." He frowned. "Not yet anyhow. But, being as the circumstances are what they are... Claira, my love, I _am_ Padfoot."

She stopped squirming for a moment to stare at him, her eyes full of fright and disbelief. Before he could react, her knee drew up and ploughed into his groin. And it was painful - oh so painful. He instantly released his hold on her to cradle his manhood.

Seizing the opportunity, Claira scrambled from beneath her captor and made for her wand; it was sitting just beside her on the nightstand. Stretching her hand out, she nearly had it within reach - when she saw a set of long, bony fingers reach over hers to grab it. She slapped at his hand, and his knuckles knocked it over onto the floor with a loud clatter. As he dove to retrieve it, Claira sprinted from the bed and headed for the door, praying that she would make it there in time.

"CLAIRA! NO... DON'T!" Sirius shouted in panic. "IMMOBULUS!"

A jet of white sparks sprang from the tip of the maple wand, weak and misguided; Sirius had not practiced magic in quite some time, and combined with the unstable effects of casting spells whilst using another's wand, the stream did not hit its target. 

Dropping the wand, as he was ashamed for having used it in the first place, he stumbled after her. And just as Claira swung the door open, he grabbed hold of her shirt. The thin fabric ripped beneath his fingers, and as she was struggling with all her might, the abrupt slack caused her to fall forward into the corridor, and then onto the floor.

**Meanwhile....**

The door to Dumbledore's office creaked open, and several witches and wizards emerged, their heads bowed in sorrow, in mourning. Many of the women wept, while the men attempted to comfort them, and receive comfort in return. No one spoke, whether it was because they simply couldn't, or that their minds were too consumed by confusion and fear to form a proper sentence. 

Severus was the last to round the spiraling staircase and pass through the gargoyle statues, and he was the only one able to keep his composure. As always, his eyes remained cold and impassive, and his expression - unreadable. He did not feel a loss as the others. And having never cared for Alastor Moody, he could not relate, nor understand the sadness that his death brought. However, there was a sense of dread, but that was nothing new; he had bore the mark of death for years. It was to be his fate, and he has long since accepted the notion, even yearned for it at times. No, the fear was not of the possibility of death, rather of not knowing when, or who would be near to him when it happened. 

Stalking down the corridor, and at a hurried pace, Severus approached a small crowd of departing members, particularly Albus, who was seeing them out. There was a slight concern that had been nagging at him throughout the meeting, and it would have to be addressed before returning to the manor; otherwise, he would be up the rest of the night speculating over the matter.

"Albus, might I have a word?" He breathed coolly, now walking beside the elder wizard.

Dumbledore lifted a weary brow his way, acknowledging his request. Then, raising a shaky hand, he gently patted him on the shoulder and spoke in a low, controlled voice.

"I already know your query, Severus. And, oddly enough, I was unable to locate the whereabouts of our furry friend." 

Severus' lip instantly coiled into a nettled sneer. 

"Have you checked the infirmary?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"And the third floor corridor?"

"Yes... And the paintings have not seen him either," he whispered calmly, sensing the rising turmoil within the heart of his Potions Master. "I am certain he is simply patrolling the grounds or searching the castle for mischief."

"Mischief, indeed," Severus snarled, as they walked past the steps leading to the third floor. His eyes narrowed into slits, while peering up into the dim passage. "Perhaps I should give it a second look."

"Now, Severus, I understand your concerns. But I assure you, the girl is quite safe--"

His lecture was abruptly halted by a loud, quaking scream. And everyone stopped to listen, all heads whipping towards the open stairwell. 

A moment of silence passed, before another cry rang out; it was much more urgent than the last, and held the distinct tone of a distressed female. 

Albus caught a glimpse of blind rage sear through Severus' eyes, just before the man shoved his way past the group. Swifter than a crack of lightning, he reached the base of the steps, withdrew his wand, and charged up the passageway.

"Severus, don't be a fool!" Albus shouted after him, but all he could see and hear was the violent rustling of his cloak as he disappeared. 

Grabbing a handful of robes and lifting them off the floor, Dumbledore chased after him, however at a much slower pace; his aged, withering body was no match for the stealth of a cobra on the verge of a strike. 

The remaining staff members quickly followed, led by Professor McGonagall, who warned them to ready their wands and proceed with utmost caution; there was no telling what unforeseen horrors lie ahead.

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Severus bounded up the stairs. Nearing the top, he could hear the desperate whimpers and cries of a woman, but also the loud grunts of a man; there was obviously some sort of struggle happening in the corridor ahead. His fingers gripped tightly around his wand handle, and his nostrils began to flare at the very thought of what he might find. It was Claira - he just knew it - and that bastard Sirius. He had warned Dumbledore about this, _God Dammit! _ And it didn't take many guesses as to what was transpiring between the two at the moment. He doubted it was anything in Claira's favor.

Reaching the stairwell's end, Severus rounded the corner - and then froze. There she was, lying half nude on the floor, her breasts partially exposed through a large tear in her shirt. Black, in human form, was draped over her, tugging on her wrists in an attempt to drag her back inside the bedroom. As if sensing his presence, Claira's eyes darted in his direction, and he could see the fear and helplessness pooled behind them. They widened at the sight of him, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

"Severus - help!" she managed to peep out. Her body was now sore and weakened from kicking and punching at her attacker, and she could barely find the strength for words.

Severus' jaw locked shut, and his body began to quake with a rage such as he had never known before. Lifting his wand, he felt the force of his fury travel up from the pit of his chest to his arm, heat surging and burning through his veins. In the next instant, a brilliant source of light spouted from the slender, black wood tip, and then burst into a massive streak of screaming sparks that rocketed across the corridor. 

Hearing what sounded like an angry banshee, Sirius glanced up. A mixed expression of surprise and horror passed over his face at the sight of Severus, as well as the curse that had only inches to go before colliding with his chest - it was too late to dodge its wrath. Another loud noise erupted; it was an explosion, and he was sent flying down the hall. Only one anguished cry escaped him as his body crashed into a stone statue, causing it to break and crumble over his limp form. The blow would have killed a normal man, but the magic stirring beneath his breast kept him alive and protected. However, the impact broke several bones and knocked him unconscious.

Loud gasps and murmurs boomed behind Severus, telling him that the others had finally arrived; too little too late. 

With tears streaking down her reddened cheeks, Claira scrambled to her feet and fled into the arms of her savior. Grabbing a fistful of his cloak, Severus quickly wrapped it around her, sparing her the embarrassment of standing before the others wearing nothing short of a ripped t-shirt and sparse pair of panties. His other hand kept his wand at the ready, prepared to cast another blow should Sirius dare to even flinch. In that moment, he wanted to kill him.

"SEVERUS," flared an angry voice from the crowd of spectators. "LOWER YOUR WAND THIS INSTANT!"

Scowling, and quite reluctantly, Severus dropped his arm.

Dumbledore approached him in a flurry, but slowed his pace when he saw Claira shaking violently in his keep. He turned to her instead, and placed a tender, soothing hand on her shoulder.

"My dear girl, what happened?" His voice was now calm and concerned.

Several tears flowed down her cheeks, before she turned her face away, burying it into the crook of Severus' neck. It was a frightening experience, one that Claira had no desire to talk about straight away; she just wanted to be left alone.

"I would think it rather obvious, Albus," Severus informed him with a brash sneer. Had he not told the trusting old fool that this would happen? Damn him for never taking his concerns seriously. And for this, he felt no guilt whatsoever for elaborating on his response. "**Sirius Black** has penetrated the castle and attempted rape on one of our female staff members; had I not interjected, and given another moment, he would have certainly succeeded."

His announcement caused an immediate uproar; gasps and squeals congested the corridor, while Dumbledore cast him an angry, reprehensive glare. He was instructed, specifically, not to reveal Black's presence at Hogwarts. But given the radical circumstances, how could he not? 

The slightest of smirks passed across his lips.

"Is it true, Albus?" Minerva choked. "Certainly Sirius Black could not have slipped past our wards... again?"

"I'm afraid, Minerva, that it is. But I believe him to be innocent of his crimes, and there is substantial evidence to prove this theory." His eyes fell to the injured figure sprawled across the floor. "However, I think it would be best if presented by Sirius himself. But given his current condition, the truth will have to wait until he is conscious enough to speak it. Poppy, will you please tend to his wounds?"

"Of course," she murmured with a hint of apprehension, while prying her way out of the huddled group.

Remus followed closely behind her, his eyes burdened by the recumbent, bruised form of his best friend. Passing Claira, he kept his head bowed and gaze astray, feeling somehow responsible for Sirius' actions. Although he did not believe the accusation of rape, he knew that his behavior towards the girl must have been something inappropriate. And his assistance at the Yule Ball only seemed to have fueled the man's obsession, driving him to do something quite stupid. He had an idea of what might have happened, and sympathized that awakening to a stranger - a suspected murder no less - lying in her bed must have been fairly terrifying.

"The rest of you, if you will please join me in my office tomorrow morning, assuming Black will be well enough to attend," Dumbledore peered over his shoulder at Madam Pomfrey, who nodded in confirmation. "Claira, Severus, if you will?" He glanced at them for acceptance, and received an approved, yet fretful nod from Severus. "Good, then we will all meet at eight a.m. to discuss the events of tonight, as well as the ones involving the death of Lily and James Potter."

With an anonymous whisper of agreement, the others shuffled down the corridor and out of sight. 

"I will see to the girl, Albus," Minerva offered in a soft voice, while holding out her arms for Severus to pass her along.

Claira's gaze lifted to his, her swollen eyes pleading with him not to let her go; she found amazing comfort beneath the strong arm that he had wrapped around her waist, and held no desire to abandon it. 

"I believe, Minerva, that Severus will see to it that she receives all the necessary care," Dumbledore intruded, calm warmth embedded in his words. "Let us leave him to it; there is much to discuss, I think, between you and I."

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he ushered her away.

"Do you truly think it wise, Albus, to leave the girl in _his_ care?" Minerva whispered with concern as they descended the steps. "She is, after all, in a very vulnerable state. Who's to say that he wouldn't use it to his advantage to--"

"Don't be ridiculous, my dear. Claira has been placed in the safest of hands." His eyes suddenly twinkled, as he peered down at her over half-moon spectacles. "The only pair of hands, I do believe, that she should want to be in."

Minerva cocked her brow at him, wondering how she had managed to overlook such a thing, and also, just how much more Albus was keeping from her. She would make it a point to find out.

"We have much to discuss, indeed."

Glancing about the corridor, now certain that they were alone, Severus took Claira in both of his arms and held her close. His cape fell away from her delicate form, leaving it open to expose the wisp of clothing that she wore. Her breasts and hips clung to him, seeking warmth from the thin travel wear that he dawned; a light cloak, button up shirt and cotton trousers made maneuvering around the manor a swift and easy escape. Releasing a heavy sigh, he stroked her back, allowing his palms to glide over her shivering skin.

The embrace lasted only a few moments, before Severus moved his hands to cup her face. Lifting her sullen eyes to his, he tenderly kissed her temples, and then lips. "You went against my wishes," he suddenly growled. "I told you to keep away from that ruddy dog." 

Claira closed her eyes and gripped tightly at his shirt, preferring the silence to his abrupt temper. "Are you angry with me?" She dared to whisper.

There was a long pause before he answered.

"No."

"I should have listened to you," she sniffled. "You were right, about all of it."

"Quite."

The corridor fell silent again.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" She breathed, half pleadingly.

"Yes," he murmured, " but only for a while."

"Thank you."

Leaning forward, Claira nestled her face against the loose fabric draping his shoulder and inhaled, finding a strange comfort in the deep, masculine aroma. 

After a short time, Severus pulled away and led her to the door of her room. But as they neared, Claira's steps grew slower and slower, until at last, she froze. A sense of fear washed over her, and she tugged at his cloak to stop him from entering.

"No, please, I don't want to go back in there - not just yet." She trembled; the mere memory of it still frightened her.

"I see," said Severus. "My chambers then?"

Claira nodded with a sigh of relief. "And a shower... if it's not too much trouble?"

Severus raised a steep, insulted brow. As if she need even ask.

"Follow me."

Removing his cape, he tossed it over her shoulders, and then guided her to the privacy of his den.

**Deep within the dungeons....**

Unlocking the wards on his study, as it was the quickest route to his living quarters, Severus entered the cold, dark room and flicked his wand at the fireplace. A fountain of flames appeared, casting its light upon the walls and providing warmth to their skin. He then reached behind Claira and snapped the door shut, before motioning her towards a large bookcase stocked with old volumes.

Claira watched through curious eyes as he tapped the tip of his wand to a thick, black tome. It glowed a brilliant green for a moment, and then slid backwards with a loud thud. The entire bookshelf began to move sideways, until a narrow, arched tunnel appeared. And with the snap of his fingers, several torches burst into flames, illuminating the passageway to his hidden lair.

With the back of his shirt woven between her fingers, Claira followed his lead, as if any moment she might fall behind and become trapped between the charcoal walls. At the end of the tunnel, there was another door, and beyond that, blackness. Claira tightened her grip on his shirt, causing it to knot up and crinkle. Paying it no heed, Severus led her to the bathroom, tugged on the handle, and then pulled her inside.

"_Lumos_."

Claira's eyes widened in astonishment, and for a small stitch in time, she forgot about the night's events. The glistening white tiles, which covered the room from floor to ceiling, captured her attention, enticing her to explore its luxurious existence. An enormous marble tub, or rather spa, rested in the center of the room; a small silver bucket indicated that he must enjoy a sip of wine with his bath. On the furthest wall was the shower, boxed in a crystallized glass door enclosure. And to her left, lay a porcelain countertop, with a marble sink and tall, oval mirror. There were several cabinets as well, all containing bottled secrets that she ached to snoop through. 

Severus cleared his throat.

"My cloak?"

Spinning around, Claira saw him standing in the doorway, one arm propped up against its frame, and the other hand still resting on the handle. With a bit of a frown, as it was incredibly warm, she slid his cloak off her shoulders and folded it neatly over her arm. Her body shivered as she handed it back to him, and then again as she watched his eyes pass over her body. 

"I will summon one of the elves to bring you your bathing supplies." His stare lingered on her lace panties. "And some appropriate clothing, I should think."

Her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Thank you, Severus... for everything," she said softly.

His gaze crept back up to her face, and their eyes locked for a moment, before he nodded and quietly withdrew from the room.

Turning towards the mirror, Claira stole a quick peek at her reflection, and grimaced; her hair was a mess and her cheeks were blemished from screaming and weeping. _ 'Oh God,' _she thought, _ 'I look absolutely hideous!' _ Even worse, Severus had seen her this way. Peeling out of her shirt and knickers, she scrambled into the shower and fumbled with the knobs.

The scorching water poured over her body, and she welcomed it with her hands, using her fingers and a soapy scrub brush to cleanse her mind and body of its filthy memories; she felt dirty, particularly in the places were Sirius Black's hands had touched her. Closing her eyes, she allowed the steam to wash over her face, over her thoughts. At first, all she could envision were the haunting, shallow eyes of her attacker; she was so frightened - frightened that he might harm her, though strangely more frightened that he might steal her innocence; the one thing that she had cherished and guarded her whole life. It was a gift, intended only for one man - someone she truly loved. 

The image of Severus suddenly appeared, swirling around and ultimately consuming the entirety of her thoughts. And she reminisced about their past, of how he had saved her so valiantly from both the Perbacius Curse and the murderous clutches of Sirius Black. She thought of their romantic carriage ride, their first shared kiss, the rose, the necklace, his soothing voice, the gentle way that he held her, the intense passion in his eyes...

Severus Snape. 

She repeated his name over and over again in her mind, when something clicked; it came just as swift and simple as the flick of a light switch. _Severus Snape was the one_. He was the man that she loved, and the _only_ man that she wanted to make love to.

Her heart felt as though it had burst open and into a whole new universe. And it began to burn with a new passion; it was even stronger than the one before. Every part of her, every fiber of her being cried out for him - yearned for him. She wanted to feel his arms around her again, drink in his tender kisses, touch him and have him touch her in ways that made her body tingle at the very thought. His eyes, his hands, and his body - she wanted to know them all. She wanted him to teach her all the things that he had promised and more. Oh so much more. 

Gasping at the rising heat beneath her breasts, Claira blinked her eyes open, and stared mirthfully through the water's mist. It was all so clear to her now. Why had it been so hard to see before? It was so obvious. Looking down, she noticed that her shampoo and lavender body wash had arrived. She quickly lathered her hair, rinsed it, and then reached for the other bottle. The pearl liquid dripped from its spout and onto an accompanying sponge. Squeezing them together, she dragged it across her skin, and moaned at the sensation; her body had become frightfully aroused by her proclamation. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. Her thoughts were only of Severus, and how badly she wanted him. Tonight would be _the_ night, she decided, the night she would offer him the gift of her innocence, in return for his love. She did not want to waste another moment, nor risk another chance of losing it.

Twisting the knobs to stop the water from running, Claira stepped out of the shower and grabbed a large, green towel from off the rack. Patting her body down, she flipped her hair over and dried that as well. She then wrapped the towel around herself and headed for the door. 

Opening it, she walked through and into, what appeared to be, Severus' bedchambers. The fireplace had been lit; giving light to the room that was once masked in darkness. A large, antique rug covered most of the gray, stone flooring, complimenting the black and green tapestries that hung elegantly from the walls. Equally as grand, and just off to the left, was an enormous four-poster bed, with thick, black satin blankets, pillows, and silk, forest-green sheets. The bed's curtains were tied back with long strands of ribbon, and the ceiling-high poles were made of dark walnut, beautifully engraved with the pattern of serpents' skin. 

Gazing around the room in amazement, Claira soon spotted a majestic wardrobe; it was of an archaic style, however well kept and not a spot of dust or single scratch upon it. After a few moments of gaping at its beauty, she wrapped her fingers around its silver handles, and pulled. Inside, she discovered a gaiety of black robes, contrasted by a long row of crisp, white shirts. They were seemingly all the same, however when she began nosing through them she found that they were subtly different in style and weight. 

Stealing a glance over her shoulder, and finding no trace of her promised apparel, Claira returned her attention to the shirts, and smirked. There was one that she fancied above the others, and wasted no time in plucking it from its hanger. She drank in its clean, crisp and somewhat masculine fragrance. In the next instant, she had it draped over her shoulders, her fingers swiftly working the buttons together.

Once finished, she closed the doors and began pacing the room, wondering where Severus had gone and whether or not she should try to find him.

Her debate was soon resolved by the distinct sound of the door latch being turned over.

Standing just outside of his bedchambers, Severus brushed his fingers across the lock, utilizing its recognition charm to enter the room. Folded and tucked beneath his arm were Claira's garments, which consisted of a small, black sweater, faded muggle jeans, shoes and socks, a silk bra that clasped in the front, and a matching pair of panties - they were blue, like the color of her eyes, and trimmed with decorative lace. The straps were made of elastic and sewn to stretch snug around her hips; when pulled back and released in a swift manner, they snapped loudly and caused a minor welt to form on the skin - not that he had been toying with them - that would be inappropriate, not to mention perverse.

Clearing his thoughts, Severus swept through the door, and then froze for the second time that night. His breath left him, and the neatly folded clothes that he held slipped from his grip and onto the floor; nothing could have possibly prepared him for the stunning vision laid before him. Claira had wandered out of the bathroom, obviously, and into his wardrobe. She was now standing before him in one of his shirts, which was far too large for her; its length skirted to her knees, and her hands were buried within the cuffs - they hung well past her fingertips. The first few collar buttons were left undone, and its fabric parted along the valley of her breasts; she was wearing the necklace he had given her. Staring with his mouth agape, which he had yet to notice, he discovered two dark and hardened pebbles erupting from beneath the shirt's surface. It was then that he realized she must be nude underneath it. And that thought caused a violent shiver to run down his body, particularly in his loins - only the sensation was anything but cold. It was hot, like fire, and continued to burn well after her voice awoke his eyes from their hypnotic state. 

"Do you mind? I can take it off if you'd rather," she stuttered nervously, misreading his expression as one of displeasure. 

Yes, he did want her to take it off, but not for the reasons that she was assuming.

"No. You are quite welcome to the shirt - keep it if you like." He mouthed almost too quickly. _The fact that it was his best shirt was of no consequence_. He would give her anything she wanted. 

Lifting his gaze to her eyes, and engaging them, he became even further entranced; there was something different about them, something quite curious. They beckoned him in a way, as if attempting to lure him closer to her. Or perhaps she was trying to tell him something, a sort of silent message as it were. Maybe it was both. 

As they continued to stare at one another, the room fell silent, and a heated tension filled the air, despite the fact that the actual temperature was near to freezing. Severus instantly recognized the smoldering quality in her eyes, even though he had only experienced it once before. It had been the night Claira was dosed with an aphrodisiac, care of one Draco Malfoy. Oh how he remembered the dizziness, the twinge of confusion, the inability to think above his belt buckle. And least he forget the sweltering heat that her body emitted, the unbearable tautness he felt as she approached him with the sole intention of seducing his trousers off.

But, no, that couldn't possibly be the case now. Perhaps he had exerted too much magic into the fire; that would explain the volatile rise in temperature and dilation of her pupils. Turning his attention to the pile of clothes at his feet, he swooped down and scooped them up. He then carried them to his nearest bureau and set them down.

"I have already taken the liberty of warding your chambers, which will - shall we say - _discourage _the entry of anyone other than yourself," Severus informed her, however neglected to add "_and I_" at the end of the sentence; it didn't seem relevant at the time. "I think it will be quite safe for you to return," he added, without further consideration.

"You... you want me to leave?" Claira asked with a frown; he had only just arrived. And she had other plans...

Glancing up through the dresser mirror, Severus caught a glimpse of her somber expression. Her eyes were dim, and her lips were pulled into a pretty pout; they were still pink and swollen from her emotional upheaval. Realizing that he had yet to offer her the comfort she needed, he abandoned the clothes posthaste, and went to her. 

Within moments he had her wrapped up in his arms, her head rested upon his shoulder and his lips pressed to her temple. It was strange how quickly he had learned to solace her; having no previous training of comforting women, he had become quite a master at it.

"You misunderstood my meaning," he murmured softly, while nudging his nose through her sweet, lavender hair. "I have decided to stay the night, so you needn't return until you feel ready."

"I don't want to leave, Severus," Claira breathed in his ear. She then paused, trying to tame her wild heartbeat so that she could finish. "I was hoping that I could... that I could sleep here tonight."

Severus lashed his eyes open, having momentarily closed them at the enchanting scent of her perfume. And his brain struggled to comprehend her words, refusing to make false presumptions of their meaning. He must tread carefully.

"I suppose I can make use of the sofa--"

"No," she whispered, before he could complete his sentence.

She then lifted her face and gazed into his dark, sable eyes. Her body was quivering with fear, not of him, but of how he might respond to her.

"Where do you suggest I sleep then?" Severus inquired with a raised brow

. The tone of his voice, deep and forthright, sent a shutter of heat down her body.

"With me," her voice gently wisped out. "In your bed... with me."

The room fell silent, still, except for two hearts beating in rapture.

"You don't know what you ask," Severus murmured, a twinge of excitement peeking behind his intense stare.

"Yes I do," she corrected him softly. "I'm asking you to sleep with me."

Severus gazed into her shining blue eyes, long and hard, and discovered a vast, hidden garden. Like Eden, its forbidden fruit was ripened to the core, and just as innocent. Dare he pluck a delicious apple from her virgin tree, so trusting and unknowing? Or shall he be the obedient servant and follow the path of righteousness? He already knew the answer, having learned from his mistakes. 

"No." 

Claira felt her heart break, as pain and embarrassment overtook her nerves. With a trembling lip, she asked:

"Wha - Why? Why not?"

Sensing her disappointment, Severus stroked his thumb over her cheek, his fingers through her hair, and whispered:

"Because, Claira, I do not trust myself to be a gentleman if I did."

_... Because the almighty Dumbledore would hang him by his serpent balls if he found out that he had taken advantage of her whilst she was entrusted in his care. _

"Maybe I don't want you to be a gentleman," she purred; a new wave of confidence washed over her doubts, knowing that it was now he who was misunderstanding words.

Severus' eyes widened in comprehension, and he gaped at her in bewilderment, wondering where his bashful little lamb had gone.

"You are distraught... ah... vulnerable, and given the circumstances, I don't think you quite realize the permanency of your request--"

"I know what I want," said Claira. And as she spoke, her hot, redolent breath kissed his skin, her lips only mere inches from his. "I want to be with you." 

Severus fought to maintain his sanity, when all he really wanted to do was ravish her whole. But for all his pent up urges, after all his years of acquired experience, a sense of nervousness arose. How should he proceed? She was not like the others, he reminded himself. He knew her name, her face. And their parting afterwards would not end with the simple flick of a galleon; it was a bit more complicated than that - not only because he would continue to see her day after day as faculty, but also because he cared something for her, something peculiar. She was no whore. She was Claira Madison Bell, sweet, innocent virgin girl, shy, beautiful, gifted... and his, his if he wanted.

"Severus, please... if only for tonight."

He wanted, oh, how he wanted. 

And she was willingly offering him what he wanted to take. Not only that, she had just given him an out, an opportunity to walk away without guilt or obligation. Yes, indeed, if only for tonight.

"You will regret it in the morning," he warned her for the last time, a low thunder of desire rumbling in his throat.

"Then that will be my mistake - not yours." With that, she bridged the gap between their mouths, and kissed him softly, slowly, inviting him into her secret world.

And he went, abandoning his thoughts for the sake of her warm, caressing lips. Pulling her against him, he explored her mouth in wanderlust, tasting her desire, her yearning, and her hunger for passion; he demanded no less in return.

Gently, Claira withdrew from the kiss, from his embrace, and began to free the buttons on her shirt. Further and further down her fingers traveled, until the final clasp had been undone, and the fabric hung like a spilt waterfall from her shoulders. With her fiery eyes locked on his, she slid her hands between the folds, and slowly pulled the shirt apart; it glided down her arms and fell silently to the floor. 

It was Claira's first _unveiling_ in front of a man, and for all her attempts at acting confident, she was terrified inside. She could see, nearly feel his eyes inspecting her, and she wondered if a cobra's victim felt this way, so helpless, limbs enfeebled, and mind unable to concentrate on anything but the hypnotic stare surveying her nudity.

Severus drew in a deep, tainted breath as his eyes traveled in wonder down her naked body; every line, every curve of her sensual form was artistically rendered, as if painted with the soft stroke of a brush. Unable to speak a word, he quietly admired her erotic landscape, memorizing every intricate detail of her canvas. Waves of chestnut curls splashed over her shoulders, ending their tide on the milky, white shore of her breasts; he could spend his holiday there, just feasting on the delicious peach of her nipples. Still, curiosity insisted that he explore her paradise further, and so his gaze moved to drift along the soft, flat desert of her flesh, to the small oasis of curls; beneath them lay a quenching pool of pleasure. And oh how his body was thirsting for a swim! 

Long, slender legs, shifting ever so slightly, pulled his eyes down, and he chased the contours of her thighs, slowing only when he reached her thinly sculpted ankles. The girl was nothing short of a masterpiece, he thought, extraordinary in every possible way. She was so beautiful, so unbelievably...

"_Perfect_," he murmured. It wasn't until a modest blush flushed over Claira's cheeks that he realized his final thought had been spoken aloud.

Claira smiled in relief at his comment, feeling as though she had just passed the Potion Master's exam. And with a new spout of courage, she inched herself closer, knowing exactly what she wanted, and brushed her fingers along the buttons of his shirt. She began to unclasp them, top to bottom, revealing patches of pale skin with each parting. His breath breezed through her hair, hot and heavy, as she pushed the separated pieces over his shoulders; they fell partially down his arms, having caught on his trousers - his shirt was still tucked inside them. The view was incredibly sexy, and Claira decided to leave him bound by the fabric, while her eyes and hands explored his bare chest. 

His skin was warm, and his muscles firm and taut. He was not overly built, but she could feel his power beneath her fingertips, beneath the velvet sea of black hair flowing over his torso; it narrowed into a thin stream as it neared his navel, and she followed it, curious to see just how far it spread.

Severus didn't dare speak, for fear it might startle her; like a timid deer, the slightest movement might frighten her away. And he certainly didn't want her to flee, not when he had her so close, and so willing to touch. Her hands felt like magic, he thought, as they smoothed over his abdomen and down to his trousers. A shiver ran through his body as her fingers found the buckle on his belt, when he felt his zipper lower, he stopped breathing.

Claira's heart pounded in her chest, and her head spun into a web of dizziness as she freed his clasp. In one swift movement, both his shirt and slacks dropped to the floor. And she gasped, surprised by the sudden exposure of skin, though just has pale and handsome as the upper, familiar region of his body. His calves and thighs were well proportioned and displayed a generous amount of muscles; she supposed the constant stalking of the corridors and towers did him a wonder of good! Marveling at his masculine physique, her eyes soon lifted to his black, silk boxers - and her mouth fell agape at the sight of a huge bulge stretching out beneath the fabric. 

As her apprehension faded, and her curiosity grew, Claira held her breath and reached for his waistband. Gripping it tight with her fingers, her hands slightly shaking, she pulled outward, and then lowered it down. _Oh Merlin! _His large erection sprang from its confinements, and her eyes widened in surprise at the sheer size of it. Subconsciously, she squeezed her thighs together, wondering how that could possibly fit... _anywhere_!

Severus smirked at her reaction to his arousal, and he pondered whether or not she had ever seen a fully erect male before; judging by her shocked expression, he could rightfully assume not. In all truth, he figured himself to be about average in length, possibly longer, though not by much. But he supposed to Claira, who has never seen a man properly stimulated, it must appear quite enormous. _ Silly girl_. Gently taking her hand in his, he drew her palm closer, urging her to explore and, hopefully, overcome her fears.

Stretching out her fingers, Claira cautiously grazed them along the length of his shaft, and was amazed to discover a soft, warm surface of velvety skin; it wasn't quite as solid or... erm... dangerous as she had thought. It actually felt rather natural and somehow less intimidating. As she continued to stroke him, she heard him gasp, and glanced up to see that his eyes had closed in apparent delight. Lowering her gaze back down, she smiled and moved to experiment by gently brushing her thumb over its red, swollen tip.

Suddenly it flinched, causing her to jump and pull away, as though it had tried to bite her.

Severus chortled softly at her foolishness, before grabbing and drawing her body into his arms. And he groaned at the fantastic feeling of her soft, silky skin pressed against his, at the explosion of desire that erupted from his groin as her hardened nipples touched his bare chest. Tilting her face, he kissed her parted lips, plunging his tongue between them to taste every delicious curve of her mouth. Tonight she will be his, he mused, as his hands ran up and down her slender waist, over the swells of her hips, and around to her tight, firm bottom; there he kneaded and caressed. Beneath his palms, her back arched into a bow, inviting him to touch her more. And as he did, he could feel her eager body strain against his erection that he had buried between the warm, hollow of her thighs.

So lost within the passion of Severus' embrace, Claira forgot about her nervousness, and thought of nothing but the growing need to feel him all over her, in her. He truly was a wizard, conjuring up forbidden, magical sensations with the simplest stroke of his finger; every touch aroused her, set her body aflame.

"Severus... I want.... I want to make love to you," she moaned against his lips. 

"Are you certain?" he rasped, as his hips slowly propelled forward and backwards, causing his arousal to rub and stroke her entrance. "I won't be able to stop once--"

"_Yes_," Claira whispered, struggling to stand; her knees were trembling ever so fiercely.

Shrugging out of his boots and trousers, he swept her up and carried her over to his bed. Tearing back the sheets with a free hand, he carefully laid her down, his mouth never leaving hers as he adjusted himself to lie on top of her. The room fell quiet, as if it had stilled to listen, to eavesdrop on the arousing sound of their lips colliding together in aching, mutual need. Blindly reaching out, Severus gripped the edge of the blankets and draped them over their hips, insuring the privacy of their bodies' secret activities.

_No one must know of this. _

Unlatching his mouth, he glided his lips along her soft jaw line, kissing and nipping, as he slowly worked his way down to her neck; he wanted to taste every delectable inch of her. His tongue left hot, wet trails over throat, across her cleavage, and all around the tender swell of her right breast. Closing his eyes, he explored her bosom with his lips; it was a game of sorts, a personal challenge to see how long it would take him to find the treasure of her abiding nipple - it didn't take him long at all. One moment and a soft moan later, he had it captured between his teeth, teasing and suckling at it like a starving fawn. He feasted at each breast in turn. Lips, teeth, and tongue, kissed, scraped, and laved, careful not to draw any blood, yet determined to leave their mark in the form of two very large welts.

Claira whimpered beneath the devilry of his tongue; every lick, every swirl scorched her body with a deep, burning thrill. And she was sinfully drawn to it, arching her breasts further into his mouth. Below, her thighs were on fire, throbbing, yearning, quaking for attention - attention from the hardness he had grinding into the mattress. Threading her fingers through his long, silky hair, she squeezed, stroking and digging her nails into his scalp. She moaned again, as his teeth bit her sore nipple, and then she cried out in pain - pleasure - both.

Feeling her hips rise and buck beneath him, Severus freed her nipple, and rose to kiss her urgent lips; how could it be that her breasts were just the right size for his hands, her nipples just the right shape and texture for his mouth? Would she fit him as perfectly elsewhere? His curious fingers moved to find out.

Slipping them beneath the covers, between their bodies, he lowered them to her thighs, to the soft folds of skin that guarded her innocence. Clasping his mouth over hers, he snaked one of them past their fortress, and explored her warm, moist channel. _Bloody hell_! His mind became lost, tangled within a sticky web of lust. She was so ready. And he was so close to taking total possession of her. 

"Oh Severus," Claira moaned, as her hips pitched under his strokes.

He couldn't stand it any longer; his erection was aching and throbbing, sure to explode if he didn't reach some type of release soon. To hell with foreplay - they have partaken in four bloody months of it already! Withdrawing his hand, he stretched it out toward the nightstand and tore open its drawer. Several vials rolled around, clinking and clattering, as he rummaged for the appropriate potion. Finding it, he snatched it out, popped the cork off with his thumb, and tilted it to Claira's lips.

She swallowed the shimmering, scarlet contents without question; it was a contraception potion, one that he brewed special for her when he had first began his conquest. As a mediwitch, Claira knew precisely what it was, and so they both glanced down at her abdomen, awaiting its effects. Within seconds, it began to glow with an identical hue, brilliant at first, and then faded as the potion performed its magic; they could now safely mate without worry of procreation. 

Flinging the bottle aside, Severus lowered his body back down, positioning his hips so that his shaft was wedged between her thighs. Her wavy, chestnut hair cascaded all around him, as fear and excitement mingled explosively in her sparkling, blue gaze. She was a goddess once again, enchanting his eyes with her phenomenal beauty.

"Severus... I haven't... I mean, I've never--"

"I know," he murmured in a deep, soothing voice. "I'll be gentle... trust me."

"I do trust you."

"Then give yourself to me, Claira," he urged, kissing her chaste lips.

"_I already have_," she whispered, as her legs spread beneath the stormy sea of blankets.

Her small, wet opening teased the tip of his erection, inviting him inside. And he entered her slowly, pushing past her soft wings, stretching the slick, tight walls of her secret chamber to fit his size. He pushed until he could push no more, until he had reached the thin barrier that kept him from sheathing himself entirely inside her. _Oh yes! _ The rage between his thighs impelled him to take her quickly, ardently, by force or whatever means necessary. But for all his frantic hunger, for all his reckless need, a semblance of sanity remained. And he knew that he must be gentle, he must spare her as much pain as possible - but there would be pain, or so he has heard.

She stared back at him as if thinking the same thoughts, her delicate eyes pleading with him to be careful with her.

"Relax," he instructed softly. "Tensing your muscles will only elevate the pain, not prevent it."

Slipping his hands beneath her back, he held her close, wishing there was something else he could do to ease her mind. "If I could endure the pain for you, I would."

"I know," Claira assured him with a return kiss; she wanted him, no matter how much it hurt.

"I am sorry."

With that he clamped his mouth over hers, to stifle the cries, while his hips drew back like an arrow strummed through a bow. And then he claimed her in one swift thrust, taking that which he declared to be his, and his alone.

The flash of pain caught Claira by surprise, even though she had expected it to come; it felt as if he had ripped right through her with a sharp cleaver. _Ouch! _She slammed her eyes shut to fight the throes of his invasion, but the pain did not leave. It spread throughout her body, causing her face to twist up in agony.

Severus forced himself to remain still, certain that her misery would soon pass. Her body would simply adjust to the intrusion, he thought. The moments soared by, and yet her expression continued to show discomfort, and dare he say, displeasure. Should he move? That might worsen the pain - but there were no other alternatives, and he definitely wasn't about to forfeit his deed. So he decided to inch his shaft backwards very slowly, and then push forward... again... and then again... gradually increasing the length of his strokes with each tender thrust.

Oh Merlin! She was scorching hot, and tight, so incredibly _tight _- he had no idea. "My god!"

Claira's eyes opened and widened at the feeling of being _known_, fully and completely, for the first time in her life. The pain faded with each gentle plunge, replacing it instead with a sensation that bewildered her mind and ignited her body, flaring it into a wild bonfire. Lured by her instincts, she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and began to ride his wave of pleasure, her hips urging his erection in deeper, faster. 

Severus growled at the feeling of her sudden embrace, at her eager, grinding hips beneath his, and glanced down in shock to find that her eyes had shifted from cold agony to hot, blistering need. He nearly cried out in delight at his discovery. Capturing her blazing, blue gaze inside his ebony prism, he gingerly nudged her thighs further apart with knees, and then dove into her sea of bliss with a surge of long, hard thrusts.

"Oh... Oh, Claira... Oh! Bloody hell!"

Dozens of blowens, countless galleons spent on skilled, harlot thighs never earned him such pleasure. What Claira lacked in experience, she made up for in tenaciousness, using her tiny, virgin body and lusty, vixen eyes to drive him stark mad. Every moan, every whisper of his name stimulated his body, and not just his penis, but his mind as well. All he could think of, all he knew in that moment was Claira and how wonderful it felt to hold her, to sex her.

His raven hair brushed lightly over her face, draping it like a dark curtain, and shielding her view of all but his black, penetrating eyes. Claira could not control the moans and gasps that escaped her lips at the feeling of him moving inside her; she reveled in his power and strength, the erotic beauty of him, of this, of _them_. Her nails dug deep into his back, into the large muscles flexing beneath his pale skin, as his thrusts grew more forceful with each passing moment. She cried out time and time again, while his powerful staff performed its magic, stirring up small miracles, transforming her world. And then a strange sensation began to brew inside her; it felt like a rising storm, getting stronger and stronger with each thunderous clap. Oh, how it frightened her. Closer and closer it came, its flashes of lightening striking through her veins, until it nearly swallowed her whole.

"Severus! Oh god, please... Stop."

"I...I can't - I told you. What's wrong?" he managed to rasp in between an erotic melody of gasps and hisses, his hips never wavering from the beat of his venture.

"It feels... it feels like... I... I don't know." Her voice quivered in fear. It felt like she was about to explode into a million pieces. But she couldn't tell him that; he would probably think she was crazy.

Severus could feel her inner walls contracting, gripping him tighter as he plunged inside her deeper and deeper. He understood her plight. She was so close to climax, as was he.

"Let it happen," he whispered in her ear, before dragging his lips over her warm mouth. Adjusting his angle, he quickened his pace, wanting, needing to feel her hot explosion.

"Oh... Mmm... Oh, Severus...Oh no! - I can't - Please stop!"

Releasing a ferocious growl, Severus forced his hips to still. He panted and struggled to catch his breath, almost losing himself in the process; it was an excruciating feat for a man to withdraw in the middle of sex - but he did it, for her.

Staring down at the shivering enchantress, into her soft, blue eyes, he sighed. He should not have been so eager. Again, he had to remind himself of her innocence; she had yet to experience that degree of intensity. But, oddly enough, neither had he - come to a climax, yes - to that extent of intimacy, no. The feeling was incredible, _is_ incredible, he told himself - he wasn't quite finished yet.

Wrapping his arms around Claira's slender waist, he rolled onto his back, pulling her along with him, until her body was lying on top, and his beneath. Lowering his hands, he gripped her thighs, and carefully spread them apart to straddle his hips; he thought it might be more beneficial to have her in control - with his guidance of course. There were certain rules. And he had promised to teach her, after all.

"Do you remember what I told you about delectation, about ecstasy?" He inquired softly, while running his hands through her untamed hair. Her cheeks were fire-red, coloured by her embarrassment, he assumed. And her gaze was sore and apologetic. But she had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Yes," Claira murmured, watching the shadows dance across his face.

"You were so close to it, my sweet." He caressed her face, sweeping fallen strands of hair from her eyes. "There was a pressure, correct?"

She nodded.

"That was your body rising toward orgasm... a discharge of neuromuscular tensions that result from direct stimuli--"

"I know what it is!" She blushed.

"Have you experienced one before?" he snapped, his eyes narrowed in jealous rage. It had only just occurred to him that her previous virgin status didn't mean she hadn't any sexual encounters with another man; there were other means of gratification. _He'll kill the bastard_.

"No! I mean, yes - sort of." Her gaze fell to her own body, while her fingers traced a discreet line from her breasts to her navel. "Well, you know."

She was too shy to admit that she pleasured herself - often in the shower, if he recalled correctly. It was one of her confessions while under Veritaserum.

"Then suffice to say, you have nothing to fear." He smirked. "It is, in essence, the same sensation, except much stronger and more satisfying. Did it hurt at all?"

"No."

"And did you like what I was doing to you?" His voice tumbled in a deep, seductive cord.

"Yes," Claira breathed. "It was amazing." 

Gliding his large, warm hands up her thighs, he gripped her hips and lifted her over his peaking arousal.

"Then let's try it again, shall we?"

"Like this? I... I don't know how," she admitted with wide eyes.

"Yes you do," Severus corrected her. "I'll show you."

Upon her nod of approval, he carefully lowered her down, once again entering her tight, slick channel. And he moaned at the feeling, at the incredible heat that her body kindled throughout. It was easy for a man to lose himself here, to abandon all thought, reason, and logic for the chance to experience this small piece of heaven - or was it hell? Some men would think it true. He has seen many a wizard, blessed with power and wealth, burn at the hands of a devil woman. Ah, but not Claira; she was different. She was such a sweet, innocent creature, born to pleasure him, he decided. Why else would she fit him so exactly, so perfectly?

Glancing up, he peered into her eyes once more, adoring the way that she stared at him, as if he were the earth and sun, or the moon at night. What has he ever done to earn such affection? Nothing worthy, he knew. And yet her heart beat true for him, as a loyal servant's would for her master. He would let her think what she wanted, let her feel what she wanted tonight... _though only for tonight_.

With her palms pressed against his and their fingers entwined, she slowly began to rock, back and forth at first, and then up and down as her body fell into rhythm. And he watched her move, the way her delicate breasts swayed in tune with her song, the way her hips danced in perfect harmony with his. 

"Oh, yes. Good girl," Severus growled in delight. "You see, Claira, there is no wrong way, only what _feels_ right."

Her walls began to tighten once again, and she purred like a cat, warming his face with hot, sweet breath. Untangling his fingers, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down so that he could taste her delicious need. He then slid his hand to her hips and helped guide them over his arousal, pushing upwards with swift, careful thrusts. She moaned into his mouth, followed by a stampede of whimpers. _God, she was so close_.

"Let it come this time," he urged, while cupping her bottom to prevent her from escaping.

Breaking the kiss, Claira buried her face into his shoulder, and cried out as the storm washed over her. Lightning struck her thighs, sending a jolt of electricity throughout her entire body. At the same time, something inside her erupted, like an exploding volcano of pleasure; it blinded her for a moment, and then came again as their hips continued to crash into each other. The sensation was extraordinary. Incredible. Breathtaking... It was beyond words. 

Something must have exploded inside Severus as well, she thought, for he suddenly let out a loud roar and then flipped her onto her back. His eyes flashed with a dangerous desire, and she could see a similar storm brewing behind his pupils. 

"Forgive me," he whispered against her lips, just before his final thread of control snapped.

Rearing his hips back, he lunged forward, entering her harder and deeper then he had before. And his thrusts grew faster and more forceful with each coming, savage sounds escaping his throat, grunts, groans, like a wild beast ravaging its prey.

Severus was certain that he was hurting her, but he couldn't stop himself; feeling the tight, searing heat of her climax burst around him simply drove him over the edge. He had always been able maintain his sanity, but not tonight, not with her. She did something to him, something strange and supernatural. It was wandless magic. Dark Magic. Only that could explain the nature of his behavior. His strong, forceful strokes were selfish, egomaniacal, and yet, to his surprise, her body was rising up to match his, her hips collided with his in perfect rhythm.

He was lost, drowning in a deep ocean of pleasure, while powerful tidal waves crashed into him from all around; he was gasping for air, struggling to breath. Claira. Claira. It was all he could think of. And he chanted her name, nearly shouted it, as he thrust into her one final time.

Every last drop of passion, every last dribble of desire was spilt inside her - even a part of his soul, it felt like. Shuddering violently at his release, his body collapsed. However it was not only he that fell, but Claira as well; her back suddenly bounced off the mattress, before his slammed down and pinned her to it. _What the devil? _It was almost as if - as if they had been suspended in air. It was absurd - and yet not entirely impossible. One thing was for certain, he had never experienced anything quite like _that_ before, and he was certain that he never would again. 

Supporting his weight on his elbows, Severus locked eyes with the tiny woman tucked beneath him; she appeared just as confused and bewildered as he. And they remained speechless for several moments, unable to find the proper words that might explain what had just happened between them. It was but a simple act, two bodies joined together in the most primal of ways. And yet, it was so much more. 

Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, a flash of blue light passed over his eyes, blinding him. _Now what? _ Cursing beneath his breath, he pondered the situation, and then cupped his hand over her necklace, wondering just how long it had been ignited; strangely, he hadn't noticed it before. 

"Sorry," she whispered breathlessly, unclasping the hook and setting it aside. "It only seems to do that when you come near it."

'"Indeed?" he inquired, feigning ignorance. He had decided not to explain its magical qualities to her; it may benefit him somehow in the future. Kissing her soft, trembling lips as a distraction, he held her close for a moment, and then rolled onto his side to spare her the burden of his weight.

Stretching out his hand, as it was the polite thing to do, he summoned his wand and performed a quick cleansing spell on the lower half of their bodies. The sight of white cream dripping off her thighs was quite erotic, however he feared it was rather uncomfortable to sleep in damp, sticky sheets.

All obligations rendered, he dimmed the fire, set his wand on the nightstand, and then lay his head down on the pillow; it was nearly four in the morning, and he knew they should get some rest before attending the meeting with Dumbledore and the others. 

Warm sweat swiftly turned into a cold chill, as their bodies cooled with the temperature of the room. Within moments, Claira was cuddled up beside him, her cheek rested upon his shoulder, her arm strung across his chest, and her leg draped over his thigh. 

"Did I please you?" She asked him bashfully, her breath tickling his neck.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer, absorbing the warmth that her body offered; it was actually quite comfortable. 

"I thought that was rather apparent, my sweet," he chortled into her unruly hair. "But, if you must know, then the answer is yes, very much so." 

Smiling, Claira pressed her lips to his chest. She had never felt so close to anyone, and for a brief moment in time, it felt as though they were one. Sighing at the thought, she closed her eyes, loving the sound of his beating heart, the smell of his skin, the feeling of warmth and safety that only his arms could provide. They were now lovers, together... in love. She was certain that he felt the same. What would come of tomorrow? She didn't know, but it excited her, especially the thought of spending their days and nights together laughing, talking, loving, and making love. No longer would she be alone; they had found each other. Smiling once more, she snuggled up against him, wishing they could remain like this forever, wishing he would never let her go.

Severus stared at the ceiling, counting the shadows that crawled across the stone surface, and he grinned. The game was over. Victory was his, and the prize was unmistakably a sweet reward. Four long, laborious months, numerous sacrifices, unrecoverable hours of lost work, and finally he had wooed the silly girl into submission; Ah, but the aggravation was necessary, and well worth the plum. Oh, yes. Now that his little conquest had been won, he could get back to his life, back to the solitude, back to the way things were before. No doubt things would be awkward between them for a while, avoiding contact, conversation, and so forth, but after a time the situation would settle down, and they might even form a bond of friendship, if required. Tempting, as it might be, to bring her back into his bed, he would have to resist; he was only a few months away from obtaining the Order of Merlin, and perhaps even his acceptance into the Ministry. He simply could not allow any more distractions to get in the way of his goals. She could ruin everything. Had she been of pureblood descent, the circumstances would be different - but she was not. And that fact would never change. No, he had had his way with her; the affair was done. It was best to lose her quickly, ignore her presence for a while...

A slight stir disrupted his thoughts and, as Claira lifted her head, he shut his eyes, careful not to let her think he was still awake. He could sense that she was staring at him, possibly evaluating the authenticity of his sleep. After a few moments, and seemingly satisfied with her findings, she moved once again. And through the thinness of his eyelids, he watched her shadow rise to his face. In the next instant, her soft lips were pressed to his in a gentle kiss.

"I love you," she whispered into the darkness, before lowering her head back down to his chest.

She had intended it to be a secret confession, but he heard it. And he waited until her breath fell into the calm rhythm of sleep, before blinking his eyes open. And he stared at the ceiling once more, this time with his heart pounding like a hammer against his ribcage. It was the first time those words had ever been spoken to him, even as a child. And the way she said it, with such certainty, such honesty, he had no choice but to believe it true. Estranged from his previous thoughts, his gaze tore around the room in bewilderment, confusion, only to settle on her face, on her beautiful mouth as if she might say the words again. He wanted to hear them. Just once more.

The night wore on, and so did his exhaustion. Combined with the warm blanket of skin clinging to his body, he soon gave into it. Claira did not speak the words again, but they echoed in his ears, and they were his last thoughts as he drifted off to sleep. 

**

If you read it... please leave a review!

**

Previous Feedback:

pickles87 - Your predictions of Padfoot were correct! Unfortunately, his troubles are not over; he still has the meeting with Dumbledore to attend. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I hope you continue... we are only half-way through!

Angelfire33 - I agree with you. I, too, grow frustrated over authors who take forever to update. But you have to understand the time that is involved. The chapter must be well thought out first (I already have the story written in my head, but it still takes planning to actually write it down.) And then there are distractions such as work, a home business, two toddlers, and life in general. I write when I can, but unfortunately it is not very often. Oh what I would give to be a teenager again! Adulthood is full of bills and sacrifices. Anyway, please stick with me; it will be worth it. I promise.

Kelley R - Thank you! It took a great deal of courage for me to start this. Having no real skill or knowledge of writing, I was terrified that people wouldn't like it. But as you can see, I have learned a lot over this past year. And I think my writing has improved greatly. Please keep reading!

Katarina - Wow, you read it all in one day? That is a great compliment. Thank you.

Fairly Odd New Yorker - I love being added to others "Favorite List". Thank you very much! Oh, and keep reading; we are far from over.

Lady Silvertongue - You are correct. I do seem to have trouble with past and present tenses. As I wrote in one of my earlier responses, I started without any knowledge of writing. I am still teaching myself about grammar and all that is involved. So there are bound to be flaws. But I am getting better. I hope this chapter reads true. Thank you for your comments. And I will definitely watch the tenses more carefully.

Earth Angel 7996 - Thank you for reading!

Draluck - I hope you continue reading. I have some fantastic stuff planned. 

Mattierobertson - Good eye. Yes, Snape acts differently around Claira. She has broken through many of his barriers - not all - but far more than anyone has before. And despite what he may think, we all know how he truly feels about her. There will come a time when he comes to realize it as well, but it will take something tragic and very painful to open his eyes. I also left a few reviews for your story, but as always, the site had errors and didn't record them. ARGH! I will rewrite them soon. Thank you for reading mine as well. 

Lunalesca - I enjoyed your feedback - very creative. Thank you for the kind words. 

Ophelia - Your review really made me smile. That was my goal when I first began this story, being a major SS/OC reader myself. Thank you so much for the encouragement. And please, keep reading. 

Koibito - I can't believe it either! I have been writing it for over a year now. And there are still many more chapters to come. Thank you for being such a consistent reader; I also enjoy your reviews. 

JacksApprentice - I appreciate you being so passionate about the story, but language language! (Wiggles finger) Try to keep it toned down for the younger readers, okay? Although, I hope there are not too many, as this is an adult fic intended for mature people who enjoy reading real romance. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue. 

ChicagoMyth - Thank you for reading!

Lemonapril505 - I rather enjoyed the new movie, but not enough Snape! ARGH! Thanks for reading my story. 

DruidFaerie - Thank you so much for the compliments. As a writer, I feed off of positive feedback; its what keeps me writing. 

SevyHero - You are very clever. Yes, for Claira it is marriage material. In her own innocent, naïve way of thinking, she is convinced that love accompanies sex; she is ready to spend the rest of her life in Severus' arms. It will be a heavy heartbreak when she finds out how wrong she is. Keep reading!

JynxedWings - I hope you enjoyed all the chapters so far. Thank you for reading and taking the time to review. 

Carole - I always love your reviews; you seem to pick up on everything that I am trying to convey. I watched a lot of "The Young and the Restless" and "As the World Turns" with my mom when I was younger. So naturally many of my ideas are influenced by the soaps, as you say. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this one as well. I worked very hard on it. 

FireValkyrie - I had many plans for Sirius in that chapter, but I decided to go with something subtle. As you can see, his obsession grew since their last encounter. I feel for him, as he is just a poor sap in love. But, this is Snape's romance, and Claira belongs to him. Thank you for sticking with me for so long. I always await your reviews. 

Sportzjunkie - Your review really touched me. Thank you for all the encouragement and kind words. I feel the same way towards my favorite fanfics, and it is a great honor to be one of those to someone else. I am very dedicated to this story, and write as often as I can. I wish I could post faster, but time just won't allow it. I hope you will remain with me till the end. Again thank you. 

Arwen78 - Snape was all talk in that chapter! When it came down to the actual act, he crumbled like a cookie. LOL. I don't think he was quite as prepared, or skilled, as he thought; it was a new experience for him as well as Claira. I'm sure he would have liked to do things differently, experimented more and so forth, but the feeling overwhelmed him. Maybe next time - if there is one... you'll have to read on to find out. Thanks.

Queen of the Sacred Flames - I hope you enjoyed this. Thanks for reading!

Run Wild - I don't think this would have turned out quite as good without your help. You really know your stuff. Thank you for everything!

Bittersweet angel - Thank you for reading! 

SeverusSnape - I wish I could update sooner. But thank you for staying with me for so long. I really enjoy hearing from you. 

SiriusLvr - Your handle frightens me! LOL. I hope you aren't too upset with the way poor Sirius has been treated. But thank you for all your compliments. And I hope you keep reading. 

Give-Me-Your-Coffee - Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Ultrahotpink - I know its been a while, but thank you for returning time and time again. 

Elaine Lahey - Ha! If you are still fuming over the chocolates, then I would advise you not to read on, as Snape only gets worse! LOL. Thank you for reading. 

Severus Snape is Mine - Is he? LOL. Thanks for reading!

DreamMakerLady - I love your reviews! I hope this was steamy enough for you. Let me know what you think!

**

Thank you to all my readers!

**


	32. Wicked Games

  
**Warning: This chapter contains sexual content. Please heed and take the necessary precautions.**  
  
Chapter: 32 

**Wicked Games**

Severus awoke the next morning enveloped in Claira's arms. Her soft breath heated his lips, while her hair spread around him like wild vines. Beneath the blankets, her breasts smothered his chest, and his hips were swathed in her legs; never before had he risen to such warmth. And the closeness of her body, the sweet vision of her parted lips, taunted his morning erection. He wanted her again. He knew he shouldn't, but how could he resist when she lay so open and naked in his arms? Memories of their passionate encounter doused all other thoughts as he smoothed his hand over her hip, her thigh, and took her hot mouth in his. 

Claira came alive beneath his fingertips, and she returned his kiss without opening her eyes, trusting his hands and lips, _knowing_ them. She welcomed his touch and arched into his palms as he stroked her breasts, her nipples; they were still swollen from his previous devouring. The feel of them stirred his hunger once again, provoking him to unlatch her lips and feast on their sweetness. She moaned at this and caressed his ears with the gentle sound of her feminine arousal. 

Oh, how he wanted to bury himself inside her once more, to lose himself within the tight blanket of heat that had brought so much pleasure only hours before. This conflicted his plans, yet he knew that once would not be enough. Twice should do it. 

A deep growl rumbled in his throat as he rolled her onto her back and slid his hips between her legs; her thighs were hot and parted for him without protest. It was then that she opened her eyes and revealed the fiery gaze of a mature woman; she was no longer an innocent, little girl - he had seen to that last night. And her face gave off a soft glow, tranquil and warm. Was it possible that she had grown even more beautiful? Yes, she had. 

"Mmm, good morning." She wrapped her delicate arms around his shoulders. 

"Indeed, it is." As he spoke, his mouth lowered to her neck and dragged across her tender flesh. 

She giggled. 

"Your face... it tickles." The stubble of hair that had sprouted from his jaw felt like fine sandpaper against her skin. 

"Does it now?" 

With a mischievous smirk, he began a trail of kisses down her throat, between her breasts and around her belly button. She squirmed and tittered beneath his lips. It aroused him all the more. Lower still, he brushed his chin against the curve of her inner thigh and flicked out his tongue as he neared the center of soft, pink skin. Breathing out hot air for further stimulation, he nipped at one of her folds. 

Claira burst into laughter and locked her knees together. She then swatted at him with her hands. He captured them and rose up to trap her body beneath his, all the while chortling at her playfulness; he found enjoyment in her energy and youth. She made him feel younger, more vibrant. As her legs glided up his thighs to wrap around his hips, he groaned. She was a kitten with vixen eyes, precious to touch, but dangerous to behold. To be in possession, or even the mere presence of such a creature, was a gift beyond all that he deserved. And although she could not remain in his keep, he was not about to pass up his moment's worth of ownership. The humor in his eyes soon faded, as his pulsing erection reminded him of his desire. 

She returned his stare, and her gaze, too, darkened with lust. They fell into a passionate kiss; hands, tongues, and hips all moved in slow rhythm. Underneath the blankets, Severus spread her legs apart with his knees and felt for her entrance with the tip of his arousal. 

"Oh, Severus," Claira whispered as he found her opening. She titled her head and glanced at the falling grains of sand captured inside an elegant glass enclosure. Her eyes widened in panic. 

"Oh, Severus! The meeting!" 

Severus snapped his head up and followed her worried gaze to the hourglass on his nightstand. "Dammit!" 

He collapsed on top of her and cursed into the pillow; with only ten minutes to spare, they had just enough time to dress and make their way up to Dumbledore's office. Of all the bloody times to oversleep, why did it have to be this morning? He forced his limbs to move, rolled onto his back, and then sitting up, swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

Claira watched him as he stood, admiring the audacity he had to strut naked across the room. She, on the other hand, had the sheets pulled up to her chin, awaiting his disappearance into the bathroom. But her eyes followed him as he went, rising and falling from his pale, brawny shoulders to his firm buttocks. He was a beautiful man, so powerful and so flawed that he was perfect. 

Severus reached the door and slipped inside, which granted her enough privacy to tiptoe over to his bureau and dress. After tugging on her sweater, she stole a peek in the mirror and grinned; with her hair tangled, lips raspberry red and skin blemished with beard burns, she looked like a woman who had just been shagged senseless. Claira chuckled. She was a woman who had just been shagged senseless, and by one of the most mysterious, most powerful and sexiest wizards known to witch kind! 

Severus stepped back inside the bedroom to find Claira smirking at herself in the mirror. And he wondered what sort of girlish thoughts were wheeling in that pretty little head of hers. What he wouldn't give to find out. But no, he thought it best to let her muse while he put on his clothes. He leaned over and scooped them up off the floor; he decided to go with the ones he had arrived in. Aside from her general hatred, his mother loathed seeing him in black robes - they were too similar to what his father used to wear. If it weren't for his inheritance, Severus would have nothing further to do with the crone; he answered to no one. But, for now, he would play the part and bide his time until her death. How sweet the weeds would smell stemming from the cracks of her tombstone. 

"I ordered a few accoutrements to be brought down from your rooms," Severus called over his shoulder, while fastening the clasp on his trousers. "Why don't you see if they have arrived? But make it quick; we haven't time to dawdle." 

Claira nodded and then whisked into the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later with her hair groomed and face refreshed. He rather preferred the ravished look. She was beautiful either way, but there was something more becoming in her wild curls and flushed cheeks. 

"I'm ready," she murmured. 

Claira stared at the door and felt an icy chill crawl up her spine. In a few moments, she would come face to face with the man from last night. Sirius Black. The memory of his bistered eyes, wild and obsessive, still frightened her. If it hadn't been for Severus, who knows what he would have done to her. What if Dumbledore was wrong? What if Sirius Black truly was a murderer? Oh God, what if he wants revenge? 

As if he had sensed her apprehension, Severus approached her and placed a soothing hand on the small of her back. He then ushered her towards the door. 

"There is nothing to fear," he told her in a soft tone. "Albus was correct; Black is innocent of murder. But as for his actions last night, I have full confidence that he will be banished from the castle, and certainly from your rooms - I will personally see to that." 

Claira paused under the archway, turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She then pressed her mouth to his. He pulled her close and welcomed her sweet lips with a gentle kiss. 

The minutes flew by before Severus came to his senses and forced a safe distance between them. 

"We are late," he grunted. "If we do not leave now they will begin the meeting without us." 

"Good, then we won't have to attend," Claira muttered as she followed him out into the passageway. 

He snapped the door shut. "Albus would only arrange a second meeting. And unless you wish to face Black alone, I suggest you bite your tongue and hurry along." 

Claira chased after his long, sweeping cloak as he glided through the tunnels. Her eyes remained on his lean form, and she found it amazing how a man of his height could move with such precision and masculine grace. His strides were swift and left behind only a whisper of sound to mark his presence. 

She trailed him out of the dungeons and across the Entrance Hall. Then, without warning, he slowed his pace, which made it possible for her to walk beside him. 

"Tell me what happened," he demanded in a low voice. "Last night, before I arrived." 

Claira sighed. She knew he would ask her that sooner or later. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled to calm her nerves and then began her story. 

"It was midnight when I left the infirmary. Padfoot followed me to my rooms, and I... well, I let him in - " 

His arms crossed in show of his displeasure. "After I told you not to." 

"I didn't know he was an Animagus, Severus. Did you?" 

He fell silent. 

"You did, didn't you?" Her chest began to burn with anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Had you been paying closer attention to my warnings, you would have worked it out for yourself." His brow rose in defense. "Dumbledore swore everyone to secrecy. And despite my efforts to convince him otherwise, he thought it best that you didn't know." 

Her eyes narrowed in rage. "_Everyone_?" 

"Do retract your claws, my dear. Until last night, very few knew." 

"Who?" She stopped in the corridor and refused to go on until he confessed everything. 

Severus whirled around in annoyance and swooped over to capture her wrist in his hand. 

"It is not important who. Tell me what happened in your bedroom." 

He tugged her along; they were already late as it was, without her acting like a stubborn female. 

"Severus - " 

"Claira, you do not understand the relationship between Dumbledore and Sirius Black; Albus has always taken his word as truth. If you do not tell me what happened now, then there is nothing further I can do for you once we reach his office." 

He loosened his grip, satisfied that she would now cooperate; he only had her best interest in mind, after all. 

"Alright," Claira pouted. "I woke up some time later. I was having a nightmare, but I can't remember what about - " 

"It is not important." 

"Just as I was about to open my eyes, I felt his tongue - " 

"Did you invite him into your bed as well?" he snarled. His blood began to boil at the very thought of that bastard tasting _any_ part of her. 

"Severus, I can't tell you what happened if you keep interrupting me! And I already told you, I thought he was Padfoot." 

He scowled, but let her continue. 

By the time they arrived in front of the gargoyle statues Severus was fuming with rage. It did not appear as though Black had intended to rape her, but the mere idea of him touching her in any way, let alone forcing his hand upon her to save his own skin, was enough to issue a death warrant. 

Claira grew nervous as they neared the door. Severus did not say a word as they traveled up the spiral staircase, but his fury was evident in his flared nostrils and clenched fists. The man was a ticking time bomb; the slightest stir would set him off. Perhaps it would be best to deal with Sirius Black alone, Claira thought. She made to turn Severus around, but he had already twisted the handle. 

As they stepped inside, the room fell quiet. All eyes were on Sirius, as he sprung from his chair and approached Claira with a mouthful of apologies. 

"Sirius, I asked you to remain seated," Dumbledore called after him, but it was too late. 

Overwhelmed by the sight of her attacker dashing towards her, Claira gasped and stumbled backwards. Severus caught her as she tripped on his boot and, pulling her out of harm's way, stepped in front of her. With his hand balled into a tight fist, he waited until Black was in range before swinging his arm around with all his might. A loud crack sounded as his knuckles collided with the other man's jaw, breaking it, and knocking him onto the ground with a thud. 

Screams erupted. It was chaos as the small crowd scrambled from their chairs to get out of the way. Droplets of blood trickled off Severus's fingers as he swooped down and grabbed the front of Black's robes. 

"Thought you could have your way with her, did you?" Severus hissed, as he drew his wand from his pocket. The tip of it glowed a bright green as he jabbed it into Sirius' throat. "If you ever touch her again, I will do it - so help me I will!" 

An angry voice rose above the crowd; it sounded like a clap of thunder in Severus's ears, though he could not make out the words. In the next instant, a burst of light flashed in front of his eyes and he was thrown onto his back. 

Claira cried out and ran to him. She knelt down and smoothed her hands over his chest to check for injuries. He was not hurt, just disoriented. Moving closer, she threw her arms around his neck in a feeble attempt to protect him. 

"VIOLENCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED IN THIS SCHOOL!" Dumbledore's eyes flashed as he lowered his wand to his side. "ALL OF YOU, PLEASE, SIT DOWN... SEVERUS, YOU WILL LEAVE MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!" 

Severus shook his head to clear the dizziness. He then stood and pulled Claira up to stand beside him. 

"Severus, please, let's just go." She tugged on his arm. 

"Claira, you will take your seat with the others," Dumbledore commanded. "Only Severus is dismissed." 

Severus glanced down at Claira's face; she looked desperate and frightened. He then looked back to Albus. "I will stay." 

"I said you are _dismissed_, Professor. Your behavior here was and is unacceptable. Please leave before I am forced to take further action." 

There was no mercy in the old wizard's eyes that day. He was furious. Severus knew better than to try his patience - whatever patience the man had left. He wrenched his arm from Claira's grasp, spun on his heel and, with what little pride remained, swept out the door. 

His footsteps did not travel far; he stopped at the base of the steps. He thought to leave, knew that it would be best, but also knew that the torture of 'not knowing' would be unbearable to endure. Why did he care? Why was it so important to know the outcome? Why did he need to see Claira safe? He pondered the questions in his mind, and in the end, could not produce a reasonable answer to any of them. So he turned his attention to the blood on his hand; it was difficult to decipher whom it belonged to. Upon impact with Sirius's face, he had split the skin on his knuckles, and damn near broke his fingers in the process. Of course, his wand would have been the wiser choice, but in that moment, he did not trust himself not to kill him with it - as much as he wanted to. 

He retrieved his wand and cast a healing spell on his wounds. 

Hours passed, or so it felt, before the meeting was adjourned. Severus stood aside and watched the staff file out the door, but their gazes never met his. They knew not to trifle with his temper. 

Claira was the last to emerge. Her movements were slow and timid, but when she saw him standing there, waiting for her, she rushed into his arms and pressed her face into his shirt. He took a cautious glance around then held her for a moment. 

"What did Dumbledore decide?" 

Claira closed her eyes. "That it was all a misunderstanding." 

Severus's brow creased in ire, but not surprise. 

"And his restrictions?" 

"Sirius will remain at the castle disguised as Padfoot. It was recommended that he avoid direct contact with me. That is, until I feel comfortable enough to forgive him." 

"And do you plan to?" His voice was calm, however his body quaked with the force of a raging volcano. 

"No." She lifted her tear-filled eyes to his. "I don't want anything to do with him. He still frightens me, regardless of his past." 

The anger inside him exploded. 

He pulled away, tore open the door and stormed into Dumbledore's office. The heavy oak slammed behind him. Even through its thick barrier, Claira could hear the muffled sound of shouting voices. She wanted to run away, away from the door, away from the guilt she felt on account of Severus's behavior; she was the cause of his violent outbursts. And, deep down, she wanted to run away from _him_. She had not learned how to deal with his temper yet and that frightened her. He had so much anger bottled up inside. She did not know the cause of it, but he was dangerous to be around when it was uncorked. 

The handle latch clicked and Claira flinched. The door swung open with Severus on the other side, spitting invectives and muttering beneath his breath. 

"Senile old fool!" 

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Severus," Dumbledore called behind him. 

Severus slammed the door closed. He then turned to Claira and, with his eyes blazing, caught her elbow in his hand. He tugged her down the spiraling staircase. After they passed through the gargoyle statues, he pulled her aside and spun her around to face him. 

"Had you obeyed me in the first place, none of this would have happened." His fingers dug into her skin and his words into her heart. "Next time, you will do well to listen. Do you understand me? I refuse to play hero every time you stumble into trouble, so get that silly fantasy out of your head. I'm not your bloody knight in shining armor!" 

He towered over her and burned her face with his hot breath. 

"Severus, please," Claira whispered. "Don't do this." 

She knew he would not physically harm her, but his words could cut through her soul like a razor sharp knife. She closed her eyes and, pushing her fears aside, reached out, hoping to embrace the man behind the mask of anger, the man whose heart was full of passion and warmth, the man she had fallen in love with. He grabbed her wrists, but allowed her fingertips to touch his heaving chest. As she dared to move closer, he relinquished his grip and let her wrap her arms around his neck. His hands slid down to her hips and just when she thought he was about to push her away, he pulled her tight against him. He remained still and closed his eyes. 

"I know it's not me you're angry with." She pressed her temple to his cheek. "And I don't care what the others say about you. They don't see what I see." 

"And what do you see?" His voice was gruff and unstable. 

"I see a passionate, intelligent man... strong... caring...." 

Severus grimaced. How naïve her thoughts could be. "You only see what I choose to show you - nothing more." 

"I don't care. Its enough." 

Severus felt suffocated by her onslaught of emotions, in particular, her impetuous confession of love and commitment. He pushed her away. 

"I have to leave." 

"Leave?" Claira searched his face, her eyes crushed. "Where? I was hoping we could spend this time alone together." 

She placed her hand on his chest. 

"No, Claira. I told you, I have business elsewhere." He stared down at her hand for a moment, and then removed it. "It was only supposed to be for one night, remember? Those were your words." 

"It doesn't have to be," she pleaded, sensing her worst fears were about to come true. She had to hold on to the belief that their feelings were one and the same. They were in love with each other. 

"I think it would be best... if we no longer see each other on a personal basis," Severus told her in his stringent, Professor tone. He needed to be strict with her, show her that he would not be wooed by her magic. This is what he wanted, he reminded himself, while gazing into her hurt-filled eyes. His heart began to pound in his chest. 

Claira's heart split in two. Oh God, she had just given this man her virginity, her innocence. And he was... breaking up with her? "But, we made love-" 

"And it was pleasurable." He sighed. "Claira, I am not looking for an intimate relationship at this time; I have neither the desire nor patience for it." 

Her body began to tremble. She had not expected this. Tears swelled behind her eyes and escaped down her cheeks in trickles. She could not stop them from coming. "Why are you doing this?" 

He could not bear to look at her. "Try to understand." 

He took several steps back, and then turning on his heel, walked away from her. His cloak billowed behind him, long, black fabric flowing like a wave around his ankles. 

"Severus," Claira called out to him, confusion threaded in her cry. 

He ignored her. 

"Severus, please..." Her voice faded into a whisper as he quickened his strides. 

The sorrow he felt after his rejection of Claira hit him with the force of a dozen Cruciatus Curses. He thought back to the night he betrayed Voldemort and how the Dark Lord had punished him for his treachery. Countless curses had flashed through his body, slashing his skin and snapping his bones. But that physical pain was nothing compared to the agony that now tortured his mind. 

Claira's soft, pleading voice echoed in his ears as he crossed the school grounds. His boots kicked up muck and snow as he treaded a path to the entrance gate. It was the point of apparation he could not reach fast enough. 

He took a deep breath, lifted his wand and sputtered: 

"Snape Manor." 

The world spun around him, twisting and spinning his body out of control, until he landed face down at the edge of a tall, rocky cliff. He scrambled to his feet and backed away, panting and gasping for air. Bloody hell! He leaned against a nearby boulder and caught his breath. Well, that was certainly unexpected, he thought, while gazing over the gorge. He had made a novice's mistake, allowing his mind to remain distracted during the pivotal moment of apparation. Damn that woman! She would be the death of him yet. 

After brushing the sleet off his garments, Severus studied his surroundings. He then followed a narrow, wooded path, which led to the east entrance of the manor. The walk was long and the cold morning air turned his breath to an icy mist. He did not notice when the snow began to fall. 

His boots sounded like hoofs as he crossed a small, aged bridge. On the other side of the brook, he could see the outline of the old manor glare at him from between the branches of a dying willow. Severus cringed at the sight of it. He hated this place. And he was quite certain that it hated him. 

Through the kitchen window, he watched as steam rose from the surface of a boiling kettle. Dammit. Someone was awake. With a heavy grunt, he stomped the mud and snow off his feet and entered through the door. 

The scent of breakfast lingered in the air and he glanced down at the table to see a small feast of morning comestibles. 

"Are you just coming in?" came an inquiring voice from behind an unfolded edition of the Daily Prophet. 

"No." 

"Really?" his brother smirked as he flipped a page. "Mother will be pleased to hear it." 

Severus scowled and swept his eyes across the room in search of the hag. 

"Don't worry, she hasn't been down yet. Your little _secret_ is safe with me." 

"There is no secret, you imbecile. I simply went for a stroll." 

"Call it what you will." Jacob crossed his legs and resumed reading the personal ads submitted by single, desperate witches in need of a 'good wizard'. "Or rather, a good shag," he grinned to himself. 

"And I thought you only limited yourself to cheap whores," Severus chided, on his way to the cupboard. 

"Every man needs a good challenge now and then, wouldn't you say? Any whore will spread their legs for a galleon, but these chits -" he ran a sadistic finger down the list of petitions. "They require a bit more _persuasion_. I like to think of it as a sport of sorts. Take this witch here for instance - young, single, looking for a bloke with gold in his pocket and a mind to marry. I doubt she is pure, but I bet she has only ever lifted her skirt for just one or two chaps. It's all in the technique, you see. First you have to seduce them, lavish them with gifts, make them think you are interested in more than - dare I say - sex." He shot a wicked grin. "The ultimate spoil comes from a girl that falls in love with you - inconceivable, I know, but then the silly chit will do whatever you want." 

As if the comment were a secret incantation, the image of Claira manifested in Severus's mind. The memory of her whispered pleas filled his ears and his eyes replayed the stream of pain that poured down her reddened cheeks as she wept in the corridor. His guilty fingers fumbled with a stack of plates on the cupboard shelf. One of them slipped through his hand and dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. Dammit. Damn her! 

He leaned down and made to snatch the plate up. 

Clip. Clap. Clip. 

There was a pause. 

Clap. Clip. Clap. Clip. Clap. Clip. Clap. Clip... **Clap. Clap.**

The noise stopped beside Severus and he glanced over to see two tight-strapped, pointed toe shoes. They were his mother's shoes. The sight of them made his blood run cold and eyes turn to stone. 

"You clumsy dolt! Have you any idea how valuable those are? Why those dishes have been in my family for centuries! But of course I don't expect you to appreciate them, you have never shown respect towards anything - just like your father." 

Just like his father, indeed! Severus rose to his full height and locked eyes with the insufferable shrew. His gaze did not stray as he reached into the cupboard, withdrew a porcelain saucer and held it up for her to see. He then brought it down hard against the edge of the counter, smashing it into pieces. 

"Why you insolent - " Her fingers bent like sharp hooks as she swung her hand around. 

The woman did not slap. She clawed. 

The memory of her hellish attacks on him as a child, and throughout his youth, only furthered to fuel his anger, and his eyes darkened with hatred. Severus caught his mother's bony wrist before her nails could dig into his cheek. It was the first time he had ever intercepted a punishment. 

"You will _never_ do that again." He tightened his grip until she winced in pain. 

"Release me this instant," she hissed. "I knew you would become _him_ one day! From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were a rotten seed - just like your fath - " 

"Don't you say it." His voice was cold, but his eyes burned with a threatening fury. "Don't you bloody say it." 

His fingers slipped into the pocket of his cloak and grasped his wand. 

"Now, now you two!" Jacob leapt from his chair and wedged himself between them. Somehow he managed to pry his mother's wrist out of Severus's death grip. "Mother, weren't you going to show me the new library? Remodeled the entire floor, didn't you say?" 

Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "Yes... yes, I did." 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and coaxed her towards the marble hall. "And added an observatory as well? Now that I must see!" 

His mother nodded and blinked her eyes as if she had forgotten something. It wasn't until she reached the doorway that she remembered. Her eyes narrowed as she spun around. "Severus, tend to the gardens." 

"After I eat," he snarled. 

"You will do it now." 

Severus pulled another plate from the cupboard and sat down at the table. "I said, _after_ I eat." 

Their eyes, once again, locked in a fierce battle. 

"Tapestries! You changed the tapestries, did you not? Come, mother, show me." 

Jacob took her hands in his and lured her out of the room with his chocolate eyes and boyish grin. 

Severus turned back to his plate and clumped a healthy serving of bacon, eggs and black pudding onto it. Unfolding his knife and fork from a fabric cloth, he sliced and stabbed at the rations, then shoveled a bite into his mouth. He tasted victory, albeit a minute one, but a victory nevertheless. 

After breakfast, Severus ventured out into the colonnade and then into the gardens. He did not mind the work as it excused him from the house and, if the plants were mature, supplied him with fresh ingredients to stock in his private stores. Of course, he would have to acquire them in secrecy; Merlin forbid he should benefit in any way from his visit - _sentence_, more like it. He would prefer the confines of Azkaban to the hellish company of his mother. 

The plants were grown within an enchanted patch of heat, which kept the snow from damaging the more delicate foliage. Removing his cloak, Severus pitched it aside and unbuttoned the first few clasps of his shirt; the heat was dreadful, and already sweat had begun to form on his brow. He wiped it away and knelt down. Beneath a small cluster of shrubs, buddleia to be more precise, he spotted a healthy growth of bloodweed, a popular ingredient for poison draughts. Sifting his fingers through the soil, he collected a handful of roots and slipped them into his pocket. He made for a second batch, when a sharp twig pricked his palm. Removing it, he examined it for a short while, noting how it resembled a miniature spear. His eyes darted around and soon targeted a gnome hiding behind a fallen leaf; it was sharpening another twig. 

"I think not." He grabbed the gnome by its ankles and flung it well over the orchard. 

There was more movement in the lilies. Pushing up his sleeves, Severus thrust his hand into the narrow grove and snatched out another wretched creature of the same genre. Several others tumbled out, shouting and fleeing towards the rose bushes. He soon captured them and sent them soaring over the hedge. 

He stood and stared after them, until the lucent sun caught his eye and forced his gaze back to the bushes. After his vision cleared from the haze, his attention was drawn to one of the larger roses with its full, lush bloom and scarlet hue. It made him think of Claira and how much she adored them. He plucked it from the stem and observed it, allowing his thoughts to dwell on pleasant memories for the moment. His fingers caressed the petals as he reminisced; they reminded him of Claira's soft skin and warm, tender breasts, the delicate way that her hips moved beneath his and the gentle sounds of her pleasure. God, how extraordinary it felt to hold her in his arms, to sex her without limitation - not in the sense of physical boundaries, but of mental freedom. The passion she evoked in him was confounding, yet so powerful that he could not resist it. Claira was, in essence, the greatest mystery and most surprising woman to ever cross his path. 

Jacob stood beneath the colonnade, his neck wrapped in a new scarf that his mother had knitted him for Christmas. He sipped his tea and watched in fascination as his brother fondled a flower and stared at it with the most peculiar look in his eyes. Jacob smirked at the spectacle, as it was not everyday that one got to witness the nefarious Severus Snape stop to smell the roses. And what could possibly be the cause of this phenomenon? A promotion? A woman, perhaps? That might explain his brother's inexplicable arrival that morning. Severus did dabble in his share of whores - but no. Jacob had seen that sappy, dippy look before. It was the look of a man in love. 

He slurped his last drop of tea and set it down, and continued to watch in amusement as Severus pocketed the rose, knelt down and resumed whatever task he was doing. Jacob had watched his brother perform servant work many times before; only then he had found it amusing for more selfish reasons. He was just a lad at the time, chuckling from behind a bush as his older brother took the blame for something naughty _he_ had done. It wasn't until Jacob had passed over the threshold of manhood that he realized the injustice of it all. Worse, his mother enforced her punishments knowing that he was the guilty party in most cases. 

Jacob cringed. They were not what some would call 'normal' punishments either. He had no idea as a young boy, that a parent petrifying a child and leaving him to lie in the hallway, or sometimes in a broom closet, for hours - even throughout the night at times - was terribly wrong. Who would he have told even if he did? He had been home taught, unlike Severus. Jacob often wondered why his brother had never said anything. Even as a lad, Severus had been clever and so there must have been a reason. Perhaps it was the knowledge he gained from it; Severus knew more curses by his first year than most knew in adulthood. He had watched him practice them in the cellar without a wand, of course. He had also watched his brother experiment with various potions, which proved to be Severus's real passion. Jacob had always suspected that Severus concocted poisons for their mother to drink. It might have been true, except that she had found the vials before any were ever put to use. Oh the torture Severus had endured that night... he was lucky to still be alive. That was the night Severus had learned the Cruciatus Curse. 

It was no wonder the man had turned out the way he did. 

Removing his scarf, Jacob set it aside and strolled out into the gardens. As he neared, Severus snapped his head up, creased his brow, and then lowered his gaze back down to the little creatures scurrying about. Jacob watched as he scooped one up by its legs and chucked it clear across the field. It was a bit barbaric, but not all together difficult. This was Jacob's logic as he squatted down and attempted to lure one into his hands. 

Severus was baffled, to say the least, at the sight of his brother exerting himself. It was a pathetic trial, what with the fool snapping his fingers and calling them over as if one might hop into his hands, but it was an exertion nonetheless. And he did manage to catch one after a while, but made the unfortunate, or rather comical, mistake of trapping it between his fingers. It bit him with the ferociousness of a Quintaped. 

"OUCH! You little bugger!" Jacob dropped the gnome and proceeded to wave it away with his hands. "Off you go now, off you go." 

"They are not to be reasoned with, you idiot." Severus stalked over and snatched it up by the ankles. "Watch closely. First, they must be incapacitated, disoriented - " He lashed it around a few times then slung it over the orchard. "And relocated so as not to find their way back into the garden." 

Reaching into his boot, Severus withdrew his wand and pointed it at another one digging a burrow. "Or you can simply kill it." 

The tip of his wand flashed and the gnome vanished into a wisp of smoke. 

"That's a bit cruel, don't you think?" Jacob choked out, while scrambling to his feet. 

"There are worse things." Severus pocketed his wand and took hold of another gnome. 

Jacob imitated his movements and tossed one over the hedge. A second gnome followed it, but landed much farther. Stealing a glance at his brother, he plucked a gnome and pitched it past the orchard. Severus remained indifferent, but Jacob knew the man would not back down from a competition. Within moments, Severus had cast his at an even further distance. The silent rivalry continued on into the afternoon, until Jacob failed to match one of his brother's launches. And he had to admit it was indeed a fairly good throw. Although Severus would never acknowledge it, Jacob knew they had both enjoyed the game.  
  
**2:30 a.m., later that night....**  
  
Severus lay awake in bed, amidst damp, sticky sheets that clung to his bare thighs and chest. A thin film of sweat coated his pale skin, in spite of winter and the cold drafts that swept through the small, antiquated room. He was imprisoned by his own bastille of libidinous heat. His fingers clutched at the covers in frustration, while his arousal stretched beneath the fabric, taking the form of an incensed volcano on the verge of eruption. Regardless of his efforts to sway his mind elsewhere, his thoughts were of Claira, of the night they spent together entangled in need and raw passion. 

It was as if he could still taste her, feel her tiny, warm body beneath his hands and lips. Ah, the ambrosial scent of her tender skin and the lavender of her hair; the melody of her soft moans, the vision of her elegant body as it moved over his hips in the most pleasurable of ways - and the sensation of it: tight, wet, hot desire that stroked and thrust his body into rapture.... 

The blanket twisted and knotted in his hands. 

Severus opened his eyes and scowled at the bleak shadows taunting his loneliness. He wondered if Claira were able to sleep, or if she, too, lay awake in the dead of night, unable to vanquish the insatiable yearning for more. 

It was more conceivable to think that she was plotting his demise. He had dismissed her feelings, indeed rejected her in the most callous manner that one could. No, it was best that she abandoned her feelings for him and set her mind on more obtainable goals. He hadn't the slightest doubt that she would find another man willing to seduce her - she was beautiful, after all; quite a prize for a common wizard without blood ties or a title to uphold. 

Severus's heart wrenched at the thought of Claira laying her precious body out for some filthy Muggleborn whose wages would, in all probability, match that of a street beggar; she deserved better, never mind that her own blood was of the thickest mud. Neither could he stomach the thought of another man, of pureblood descent or not, touching her the way he had last night. There was something sacred in their union, something so powerful that he was willing to lay down his own life in order to keep her chastity in his possession. 

Caught off guard by the sudden siege of emotions, Severus tore the sheets back and slipped out of bed. The moonlight danced across the silk mound of his bobbing erection as he stalked over to window. As he stood gazing over the snowy fields, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the frozen glass. He shut his eyes. His need intensified, and the urge to satiate the flame in his groin nearly drove him over the edge to insanity. 

Thoughts of Claira clouded his mind once again, thoughts of her gentle, seductive smile, the lustful gleam in her sapphire eyes, that special look which told him she wanted him, that gave him permission to touch her in any way he so pleased.... 

A moment later, he took the plunge. 

Just once more, he told himself, while scrambling for his robes; he would have her one last time, douse this curious craving and then be done with it. In a fit of haste, his fingers fastened the buttons on his shirt, combed through his hair and tossed on his travel cloak. He paused at the door; just long enough to ease it open without disturbing the silence in the corridor. 

Ever skillful in matters of stealth, no one heard Severus's passage through the shadowy manor house nor the click of the latch on the north entrance door. 

The frosty air pricked his skin like nettles as he stepped out into the night. The clothing he donned provided little warmth, but as his travel to Scotland would require the full use of his magical strength, he had no other choice but to discount the employment of a warming charm and weather the cold across the grounds. The wind whistled in his ears and swept through his cloak as he ventured over the steep hill. At the bottom of the brook, he withdrew his wand and raised it above his head with only one destination in mind... 

"Hogwarts."  
  
**A short time after, just outside the entrance gate of the castle....**  
  
He had made a rash decision, Severus realized, as his body was thrown into the belly of a snowstorm. As he struggled to his feet, the steel gate flew open and then slammed closed again with the blistering fury of the wind. Taking tight hold of it, he fought his way through to the other side. 

He then wandered forward into the white abyss. 

His vision was impaired by the thick gusts of snow; he could only assume he was heading in the right direction - towards the castle, rather than the Forbidden Forest, which would be most unfortunate under such extreme circumstances. As he neared the bridge, the school's enormous silhouette crept into view, however faint and blurred. His eyes swept towards the east, and there he saw a tiny shimmer of light. It grew more brilliant as he staggered forward. Severus soon recognized the source, as it came from none other than Claira's window; it shone like a beacon through the blanched palette of the storm. It called to him, as if to say: 

_"Hurry man, she's waiting there for you."_

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched a slender shadow move across the luminous glow. So she _had_ been awake all night, pining for him no doubt. The thought encouraged him on, and carried him the remaining distance to the castle.  
  
**Meanwhile....**  
  
Claira pressed her face into the warm, cottony surface of her towel and patted her face dry. The bath had helped her to relax, but did not cleanse her heart of the sorrow that blackened her mood. How else should she feel? The man she had fallen in love with, given herself to, wanted nothing further to do with her. She was too confused to cry, and too hurt to feel anything other than pity for herself. 

Too exhausted to deal with appropriate attire, she wrapped the towel around her body and made for her bed. Claira knew that she would not be able to sleep, but figured it was the best place to sulk for the remainder of the night. Her bottom barely had enough time to warm the surface of the sheets when a loud, urgent knock sounded at her door. 

She groaned. 

The last thing she wanted at the moment was company - or worse, to have to nurture the wounds of an injured child. Who was there to heal her pain? There was no cure in existence that had the power to mend a broken heart. 

The knock sounded again. 

With a soft sigh, Claira slumped off her bed and walked over to the door. She paused to adjust the knot on her towel, and then opened it. 

She gasped. 

A tall, dark figure loomed in her doorway. His wild, obsessive eyes glistened beneath the torchlight, and his pitch-black hair lashed out as if it had been through a fierce blizzard. The man looked familiar, but Severus Snape would never have worn his cloak wayward off his shoulders, she thought. And the expression on his face, desperate and depraved - he looked like an absolute madman! 

It took Claira a moment to adjust to the sight of him - him, Severus Snape. Severus Snape indeed! She didn't know whether to kiss him or slap him. 

Severus found himself rendered speechless by the tiny woman that stood before him, dressed in nothing more than a white, cotton towel. She was the very object that disrupted his thoughts. And the sensuous vision that she offered him only brought to mind the reason why he was standing there, at three in the morning no less. He watched the emotions pass over her face; first there was surprise, and then fear, glee and, last but certainly not least, anger. He had expected that much. 

"What are you doing here, Severus?" 

His eyes did not stray from her beauty, and his voice was laced in silk and calmness, despite his outward appearance. "May I come in?" 

"Why?" she nipped. "You made it _very_ clear this morning that you wanted nothing more to do with me." 

He took a step forward. "I said no such thing." 

She backed away, pulling her lip into a tight pout. "You said you didn't want to see me anymore-- " 

"I know what I said." 

He followed her inside and snapped the door shut. In one swift movement, he had her captured in his arms. 

"Perhaps I was mistaken," he murmured against her lips before leading them into a soft, seductive kiss. 

Claira put up a small resistance at first, but soon fell under his enchantment. She had a trusting heart and forgiving soul, and Severus used it to his full advantage to slither his way back into her graces. She made it all too easy for him. 

"Severus," she whispered in his ear. Her eyes set off a silent invitation as he snaked his hands between the folds of her towel and pushed them apart. 

The towel fell to the floor, followed by Severus' cloak, boots and trousers. His fingers were precise and worked in a quick pace to rid the barrier of fabric between them. He had only one thought in mind as he guided her towards the bed. By the time they both reached it, they were naked and locked in a lusty embrace. 

Claira wanted to be angry with him; she knew that she should be after the way he had treated her. But in that moment, as he touched her, kissed her with the passion of a turbulent sea storm, she could feel nothing but desire and want for him. He was a powerful wizard, working his wicked magic over her in a way that only he could. She was too helpless to contest, and too in love to even try. 

The sensation of Claira's warm, velvet hands as they caressed his chest, shoulders and thighs, rekindled the fire in Severus's groin. His hunger was ferocious, and the need to feed his appetite overtook his senses and consumed his thoughts. He could think of nothing logical, rational or of any reasonable intelligence, only feel and act upon his primal instincts and urge to devour the wanton female in his arms. His hands explored her trembling body, while his mouth ravished her throat and shoulders. 

With her slender hips secured in his hands, Severus leaned backwards onto the mattress and steered Claira into his lap. She straddled his thighs and arched her back into a bow, gifting him full access to her sweet, taut nipples. He pillaged them with his tongue, lips and teeth, while his hands stroked and fondled her breasts as if they were delicious toys for him to play with. 

The taste of her, the alluring aroma of her aroused sex - it all seemed so familiar, as if he had always known her this way. And yet, the excitement she stirred inside him was new and torched with sensations unlike anything he had ever experienced before. 

Nothing mattered to him in that moment, nothing but the soft swaying hips that teased the cusp of his engorged erection. With a deep, anxious groan, Severus pulled her body down and thrust his hips upward into her small, slick opening. 

He threw his head back and hissed at the incredible feeling of her tight heat clamped over his arousal. Claira whimpered at his sudden invasion, but she soon adjusted to his presence by means of wiggling her hips until she reached a desired comfort. Then she began to move; slow, gentle pitches at first, and then up and down with a rhythm that sent him spiraling towards oblivion. 

Pleasure crept through his veins like a deadly poison, and the friction between their hips intensified it. God, she felt incredible. Soft sighs and dainty moans escaped her parted lips as she stroked him with her thighs; low groans thundered in his own throat, creating the perfect, erotic melody. He found it difficult to remain aware of his surroundings. The small room, the crackling fire, the inadequate size of the bed, they were all shadowy blurs compared to the brilliant vision of Claira's benign body. 

With one hand rested upon the mattress for support, Severus used his other to sweep away the wild locks of hair from her face. Then he gazed into her eyes, and watched them glitter with flashes of blue light that reflected her passion for him. What a glorious sight it was. 

Then something shifted in her stare, and her lashes beat with a strong emotion that he had yet to comprehend. 

"I need you," she whispered, her warm breath kissing his chilled lips. 

Claira's expression was intense and implied a need that reached much deeper than sexual gratification. She wanted the one thing that he would never give her. Severus closed his eyes and buried his face between her breasts. Had her blood run pure and true as his, he would not have hesitated to comply with her wishes. But it did not, and it never would. So instead, he wrapped his arms around her delicate waist and pulled her down with him as he laid his head on her pillow. He then grabbed her hips and began to thrust upwards and into her with all his might. He could give her this. She cried out in pleasure, pain, and met his strokes with her own feral drive. 

Severus could feel the heat rise in his groin. Claira was very near to release as well; her tight walls grappled his shaft in such a way that made him roar with delight. In the next instant, he was on top of her and plunging into her with a force that caused the bed's headboard to slam against the stone wall. Every muscle in his body ached, but he pushed past the pain for the sake of a much higher goal. 

He watched her eyes carefully and waited for her body to quiver. 

"Oh, Severus!" she cried. 

The time had come. With her name spewing from his lips, he drew his hips back and thrust into her one last time. It sent them both skyrocketing into an explosion so powerful that the world shattered around them. 

Claira was the first to notice that it had. Severus, after his vision had cleared, followed her wide eyes around the room and discovered all the glass objects, including her large vanity mirror, to be broken. Pieces of shattered glass were scattered about the floor. 

"What... what just happened?" Claira asked in a daze. 

Severus closed his eyes and fought the urge to collapse on top of her. He was exhausted, and his mentality was spent, but somehow he managed to muster up enough strength to slur out a few words. 

"I don't know." 

It was a puzzling phenomenon, similar to their first experience in which they had levitated, and like that anomaly it deserved further examination. 

After his breathing had calmed to a normal pace, Severus lifted his trembling body and slumped onto the mattress beside her. 

There. That should do it, he thought. Craving doused. The war had been won and he was the soldier of victory. He stretched out his arms and limbs, much like a haughty cat satisfied after a splendid meal, whilst Claira was left to the sticky task of cleansing the aftermath of his plunder. She did not complain. And when she was through, she smiled and coiled her warm body around him like a velvet blanket. Her timing was impeccable, as the room had begun to chill his skin with its winter draughts. 

Perhaps it would not do him, or her, any harm to stay for a short while longer, he concluded. He had a few hours left before sunrise after all, and Claira had just offered him a most pleasant invitation to stay. Decision made, Severus wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, allowing her delicate head to rest on his chest and her chestnut curls to fall over his shoulder like a subtle wave washing over the shore of his skin. 

"Severus?" 

He drew in a deep breath, not quite prepared for a discussion. "Yes?" 

It was then that Severus noticed the fire had dimmed, and that Claira's rapid breathing had slowed to a warm calm. 

"I wanted to tell you before... I wanted... to... tell you that... I love... that I love... I wanted to... to tell you..." Her voice faded into a soft murmur. 

"Claira?" He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her gaze to his. 

She had fallen asleep. 

No doubt the restless night had taken its toll on her and that, combined with sexual exhaustion meant that she would likely be out for hours. Severus smirked down at her slumbering form. She was such a beautiful creature, however weak and easy to manipulate through her emotions. The foolish girl had accepted his poor excuse without so much as an apology or promise to commit. He knew then that he could have her as he pleased, and leave whenever he wanted. The idea was delicious and oh so very tempting, however dangerous to his career stratagem. If one of the Ministry's officials were to find out about his little affair, his application would be banished to the nearest garbage heap. No, he had his fun, and now it was time to turn his attention towards more beneficial activities, which excluded the seduction of Mudbloods. 

He glanced down at her peaceful face, soft and innocent compared to his own façade. It was simple to think such thoughts when her eyes were closed and shielded from his sight. And Severus surmised that he might be able to reinforce them if he could only free his mind of her memory. But in that moment, as Claira lay in his arms, he felt powerless and the prospect of never touching her again was incomprehensible. He knew that the only way to escape her magic was to rid himself completely of her presence, even if it meant forfeiting the night. 

With gentle, subtle movements, he wriggled out of Claira's embrace and slipped out of her bed. He dressed in silence, while his eyes struggled not to stare at her nude form peeking from beneath the disheveled blankets. The urge to return to her almost bested him, but he disenthralled himself from the idea and forced his back to her. On his way to the door, he flicked his wand at the shattered pieces of glass and repaired her broken possessions; it was the least he could do.  
  
**The next morning....**  
  
Claira awoke with a slight shiver, her eyes still closed and dreaming of the previous night. And she smiled, for the simple fact of knowing that Severus was there to hold her in his arms and warm her up. With a small yawn, she stretched her hand out and reached for him... and then reached further... and even further until her fingertips touched the edge of the mattress. Her heart sank, and she did not need to open her eyes to know that he had left. Something in her heart told her that he had never stayed. Curling into a ball, she hugged herself and pressed her face into the pillow where he had lain. She was no closer to understanding him now than the night they first met. He was an enigma, and did everything in his power to remain that way. Why did he have to leave? Where had he gone? And why was it such a secret? 

With her mind racing and heart aching, Claira unfolded herself and reached into her nightstand. She withdrew both the rose and necklace that Severus had given her and set them on the bed. And she stared at them, as if they were pieces to a puzzle. If only she knew his history, his childhood, maybe then she could comprehend why his words told her one thing, but his actions spoke another. Even when he had dismissed her, his eyes burned with a deep, brooding passion. He was in love with her. She could feel it. So why was he holding back? 

More importantly, what was he so afraid of? 

She made a vow to herself to find out.  
  
**

Author's Comments

**  
  
V: Thank you! I hope you return to read the rest. 

Devious Sorceress: You are correct, as you can see from this chapter. I don't think Severus really knows what he wants. Although he thinks it's the Ministry position, he is finding it very difficult to let Claira go. 

Kerla: Yes, it was a game to him - at first. The only problem is, he isn't exactly winning it. He thinks he can just walk away with the prize, only he's not getting very far is he? Thanks for reading! 

Carole: Hahahaha! No, Jacob definitely is not Lucius Malfoy. Aside from being a naughty playboy and a spoilt brat, there is good in him, which we will see as the story progresses. I think you have noticed with this chapter that his intentions are not all wicked. And as far as the orgasm thing goes, well, and speaking from my own experience, the first time is not painful for everyone. Besides, it is fiction, so I can alter the universe a bit (wink). Thanks for being such a faithful reader. 

Katarina: I think we will be seeing a lot less of Padfoot. It is Claira and Severus's romance, after all. They have many obstacles to conquer, without having to worry with him. Besides, I think Sirius has finally accepted defeat. 

DiminishdEnigma: You read through all 31 chapters in one go!? You are brave! Thank you for all the kind words. And I hope you stick around for the grand finale. 

LadyM: Thank you! I am still learning, and everyday I find out another thing that I am doing wrong. One day I will get it, and when I do I hope to make something of it. Please continue reading and reviewing! 

Billiejoe: Snape definitely abuses his power. He is not the best role model for children; I think we all agree. And he is an ass, and will continue to be one until he learns a hard, hard lesson. There are some things in life that you should never take for granted. Thank you for reviewing! 

Jonquillejaun: Thank you so very much for all your compliments; its reviews like these that keep me writing day after day. And you are right about the homophones, but I am working on it. You must remember that I am teaching myself, as you can see from chapter one. I wish I could have started out with the knowledge I know now. I am embarrassed of my earlier postings! I actually had planned on Snape meeting Claira's parents, however I am not sure if I can fit all my ideas in. I will know more when I get to that part of the story. Thank you for reading! 

Lunalesca: I write to please! Thanks! 

Draluck: I think my biggest fear is taking too long to post and losing everyone's interest. Thank you for sticking with the story! 

Angelfire33: If my head gets any bigger it will explode! Thank you so much for all the kind words of encouragement. I would love to be a professional writer one day, and it is certainly a goal I am striving for. This story gives me the practice and experience that I need. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue to enjoy them all until the end. Thank you for reading! 

Beachbabe23: He is pretty clueless isn't he!? One day he will come to realize it. Let's just hope it isn't too late. Thanks for reading! 

SevyHero: Severus has developed feelings for Claira, whether he wants to admit it or not. Now that he has had her, he is feeling haughty and supreme. Certain events in the future will burst his bubble, but until then I fear he may only get worse. Keep reading! 

Kelley R: Things may work out in the end, but it will be one hell of a bumpy ride! I hope you continue to read on. Thanks for reviewing. 

Run Wild: You have taught me so much over these past few months. And if it weren't for your knowledge and incredible insight, this story wouldn't be half as good. I can't thank you enough, or even begin to describe how lucky I am to have you as a friend. I just love you! 

FireValkyrie: Your review made me smile! As always. I was scared out of my mind to write the sex scene (maybe that's why it took me 31 chapters to get there!) Your kind words doused my fears and I am relieved to know that you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I always look forward to your comments. 

Intelligent Witch: I think the one thing I am most concerned about with this story is emotions. I want to make sure everyone knows exactly what the characters are feeling, because that is what this story is all about. It is about learning to love, hurt, struggle, lose, and appreciate the things that we have. And if I can make at least one person cry by the end, I will have accomplished my goal. Thanks for reading. 

Zip: Short and sweet - I loved it. Thank you! 

Septimus Harding: I think you described both characters perfectly. And you are definitely heading down the right path with your comment about Snape thinking Claira will put up with more than she will. He doesn't realize it, but he is teaching her about trust and that it can be harmful if placed in the wrong hands. I think her heart will be pushed to the limit and will stand as much as it can before it bursts. 

XxDarkGoddessxX: Thank you! Keep reading! 

Lady Silvertongue: The last line in your comment made me laugh! I think you will find that Snape does MANY stupid things throughout the story. He is still a man, flaws and all. Right now he is king and he thinks he can do whatever he pleases. It will not last long. Keep reading! 

DreammakerLady: You have a wonderful grasp on the story. You are right on with the plot, which I always feared would be a problem. Thank you so much for reviewing. 

Rossnrachel4ever8: I rarely read anything but Snape/romance fics. They are my favorites. Thank you for reviewing and I hope you and all your friends continue to enjoy the story. 

Queen of the Sacred Flames: I hope to be one some day. It is my dream. Thank you for your continuous reviews. I always enjoy them. 

Bittersweet angel: I had a good laugh with your comment. Thank you for reading! 

SiriusLvr: Hm, I wonder why you disliked Claira confessing her feelings? And yes, the levitation is worth pondering isn't it? (wink). Thanks for reading. Oh, and I think Sirius made out pretty well - except for the broken jaw, that is! Sorry about that. 

Vincelia Valentine: I began posting the first few revised chapters on I wanted to clean the story up a bit before posting it anywhere else. But, if something should happen to this, then I will definitely post it somewhere for everyone to read. Thanks for reviewing! 

Sportzjunkie: I believe this is the best review I have ever received. You are so in tune with everything that I am trying to portray and you definitely get the emotional side of the story. You have an uncanny understanding of Snape and everything I am doing with his character. You are a fantastic reader and are able to pick up every detail. Yes, Snape does not know what love is, even though it is staring him straight in the face. One day he will, but until that day comes... Thank you for writing this. I was on cloud nine all day! 

Elaine Lahey: The man didn't even last a day! And he has the nerve to call Claira weak!? LOL. Thanks for reading. 

Ultrahotpink: Opposites attract! I won't let you down. Thanks for reading and reviewing. 

Pickles87: Nap - every mother's favorite word! Your theories are very close. And I'm glad you remembered the Dark Mark incident and were able to link the magic together. We will learn more about Claira's special healing ability as the story progresses. She is very powerful, but does not realize it yet, nor does Severus. The levitation is a special link between Claira and Snape, which we will also learn more about. But no, I am sorry to say that the phenomenon did not vanquish the effects of the birth control potion - Severus is a genius potion master, after all. And I don't think he would risk something that serious. He is not father material, which I don't think Claira has considered yet. As far as the soaps, I have not watched them in years. As if I could pry my kids' eyes away from Sponge Bob! Now there is that new show out, "Lazy Town". I rarely get to watch T.V. anymore! 

**

A special 'thank you' to all who reviewed!

**  
  



	33. Unlocking the Mysteries

**Special Note: Cauldrons Aflame is now posted at Sycophant Hex Occlumency. It will be the revised version, with added details, improved grammar and enhanced descriptions. A new, edited chapter will be posted weekly or bi-weekly. Feel free to give it a read!**

Chapter: 33

**Unlocking the Mysteries (Part One)**

The next evening, after she was relieved from her duties in the infirmary, Claira walked an obscure path through the icy, whist corridors and empty stairwells of the castle that lead down to the dungeons. She had made up her mind that, for the sake of the ultimate good, she would have to break a few rules. After all, Severus was not playing fair, so why should she?

Drawing in a deep, anxious breath, she gripped the thin, silver handle leading to the Potions Master's study. Her palm tingled as the recognition charm glowed beneath her hand. When the lock turned over, she let out a relieved sigh. Severus had not denied her access to his chambers and, since the ward would repel anyone else from entering behind her, she was free to carry out her little expedition without having to worry about anyone interrupting her - or having to explain why she was snooping through the Professor's private things. That is, unless Severus himself returned. It was a dangerous gamble but, as Claira was certain that he would not come back a third time, she willed herself to take the chance.

After giving the door a light push, she slipped inside. The room was cold and dark, but more importantly it was vacant. Stepping further into the blackness, she flicked her wand towards the fireplace and conjured a flame. Her heart fluttered at the sight and aroma of the stone chamber. It smelt of musk and spice, of Severus. His belongings were tidied and arranged to his distinct preference. She took a moment to breathe in her surroundings, before setting her sights on his large, mahogany desk.

The soft, leather cushion of his armchair made a slight squishy sound as she sat her bottom down on top of it. How like Severus to purchase the most comfortable, not to mention expensive, chair he could find. Just how much money did he make as a professor anyway? Judging by the quality of his possessions, it was quite a lot. Running her fingers over one of the slender drawer handles, she gripped it tight and tugged it open. Inside, she found several elegant quills, a variety of inkbottles and a stack of parchment stained with red marks. Plucking one from the pile, she held it up and read:

Frederick Cleaver  
5th Year Potions  
Gryffindor

**

Hellebore Cultivation

**

All kinds of Hellebore will thrive in ordinary garden soil, but for some kinds, prepared soil is preferable, consisting of equal parts of good fibry loam and well decomposed manure, half fibry peat and half coarse sand. Thorough drainage is necessary, as stagnant moisture is very injurious. It prefers a moist, sheltered situation, with partial shade, such as the margins of shrubberies. If the soil is well trenched and manured, Hellebore will not require replanting for at least seven years, if grown for flowering, but a top dressing of well-decayed manure and a little liquid manure might be given during the growing season, when plants are making their foliage....

Claira's eyes skimmed down to the sharp handwriting at the bottom of the page.

_Fascinating, Mr. Cleaver. However, not as fascinating as the first time I read it in, "A Modern Herbal." Also, I find it rather curious that Mr. Thomas should plagiarize exactly the same passage and place it on Madam Sprout's desk subsequent to the morning that yours appeared on mine. How do you suppose that happened? _

For future reference, I suggest you make use of that feeble brain of yours and apply it to your own studies. Furthermore, should you feel the need to copy another student's work, it is best to make certain that it is, in the very least, the correct assignment. I requested twelve inches of parchment on the subject of moonstones and their uses in potion making.

Fifty points from Gryffindor.

And see me after class for instructions on your detention.

Claira smirked and placed the parchment back inside the drawer. Part of her wanted to read more of Severus's teaching ethics, as he rarely discussed that aspect of his life. However, _Professor Snape_ was not what she had snuck there in search for. It was _Severus_ Snape that she wanted to learn about and the answers to her questions did not lie in his penmanship.

She rummaged through the rest of his drawers and came up empty handed. It was silly of her to think that he would place personal documentation about himself in a location that was easily accessible to others. No, knowing Severus, he hid them, and he hid them well.

Rising from the chair, Claira worked her way around his study, lifting tapestries and any other loose objects that might be used for concealing secrets. Once again, she found nothing. There had to be something somewhere, but where? Glancing around the room, she spotted the bookcase that led to his bedchambers. Eureka! Secret passages surely led to more secrets.

She approached the old tomes, placed the tip of her wand to the same one Severus had, and crossed her fingers. She tapped on it twice. Her heart almost leapt from her chest as it glowed a brilliant green and slid backwards. The bookcase then moved aside to reveal a darkened tunnel. Yes! The recognition charm must apply to all areas of his quarters - how wonderfully convenient.

"Lumos."

Claira explored the black, stony passageway along her journey to his rooms. She found nothing of immediate interest. When she reached the door, she pushed straight through and cast her wand at the fireplace. Here was something different. She recognized it in an instant, despite the fact that she had only been in Severus's bedchambers once. Her eyes darted to a narrow, wooden staircase that seemed to climb right through the ceiling. It had not been there before.

Severus must have forgotten to charm it when he left.

With her heart pounding in her chest and, after one last glance behind her to make sure that she was alone, Claira ascended the steps.

At the top, she entered a dark, chilly room, which resembled an attic of some kind. Several torches hung on the walls, and she lit them to get the full view of the place. It appeared to be a storage room. Dozens of crates were stacked in each corner and odd devices, used for potion making no doubt, were rested upon antiquated shelves. To her left, Claira spotted a large, silver hinged chest. She decided she would begin prying here, with this box, as it did not appear to have a lock on it. She quickly walked over, flipped open the latches and lifted the lid.

Her eyes widened in shock as she peered inside.

It was a chest filled to the rim with golden galleons. It was a hefty fortune and more than she would ever see in an entire lifetime. She was amazed. And, the fact that Severus kept such a stash hidden away, when most of the wizarding world stored their money in the goblin banks for safety, also astonished her. While she pondered the thought, her eyes caught a glimpse of rustic metal dangling from a hook on the wall just above the chest. It was a key, and upon it was the inscription: _Gringotts 432_. There were three more just like it, _433, 434,_ and _435_. They were all vault keys. Good Merlin! The man was rich! Not only was he rich, he had wealth beyond her wildest imagination.

Why did he feel the need to keep it a secret?

Claira squeezed her eyes shut while her mind pondered the newfound knowledge. She had just learnt that Severus did not work out of necessity. And the gold suggested an affluent upbringing. Already the odds were against her. Wealthy purebloods were rarely seen with poor Muggle-borns. He had tried to explain that to her at the Yule Ball, when she questioned his motives for inviting Teresa to the dance. He had done it for career advancement. But things were different now, Claira assured herself. She refused to believe that Severus would allow something so trite as social prejudice to stand in the way of his feelings for her. She could not care less what others thought about their relationship. The union between a pureblood and a Muggle-born was not illegal, nor was it a crime.

She snapped the chest lid shut and backed away from it. The gold was only a piece of the puzzle. And it would be ignorant of her to jump to conclusions with so little evidence in hand.

Her eyes took to scanning the room for more clues. Then she saw it. Positioned against the back wall was an oak table, and upon it were two stone basins, one smaller than the other. Even from across the room, Claira could see the tiny shimmer of silver light radiating from within. So, Severus owned a pensieve - two of them actually. How bizarre. Her eyes narrowed as she approached them, a mixture of curiosity and fear stirring inside her.

She paused at the base of the table and stared at the runic encryptions that bordered the basins. A strange sense of guilt crept through her veins, warning her not to trespass into his memories. It was wrong. Or was it? It was, perhaps, the only way that she would ever learn about Severus's past; he certainly had no intention of telling her. And what Severus didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. Right? Right.

So, she selected the small one first, took a deep breath, and peered inside. White, silvery clouds swirled around the bowl, like a tiny cyclone of thoughts. Biting her lower lip, she inched her face closer, then closer, until she felt the pull of its magic tickle her skin. In the next moment, she was sucked inside.

Claira felt, rather than saw, the world spinning around her; it was cold and dark, and her vision was impaired. Then she saw a light. It grew brighter and brighter, before a sudden flash thrust her into Severus's first memory.

She was in the Great Hall, standing beside a group of young, quivering students. In front of her was a stool, and on it was a skinny, pallid skin boy. He had shoulder-length black hair and a unique, hooked nose that could only belong to one person. Severus Snape. What drew her attention the most were his dark, stony eyes. They were too empty and cold for a boy his age. And his face, bleak and expressionless - he was not a normal looking child. He sat staring straight ahead, seemingly unperturbed by the events transpiring around him, as an unfamiliar witch placed the sorting hat on top of his head. The folds in the hat scrunched into the shape of a face and began grumbling. The room fell silent as it decided the young boy's fate. Stepping closer, Claira saw that Severus was whispering to it. She approached him and leaned in even closer.

_"Let it be Slytherin. Please, let it be Slytherin," _he chanted over and over again. _"Mother would be displeased and Father furious... Please, let it be Slytherin."_ After a moment or two, the sorting hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

A flicker of a smile broke through the small boy's grimace, before he climbed down from the stool and took his place at the Slytherin table.

Then the world began to spin again, tossing Claira's body into total blackness as it carried her to his next memory. Was that it? The memory was so brief and didn't seem all that significant to her. Then again, she wasn't Severus, and to him it must have been something very important.

Light soon filled her eyes, however the setting was quite dim and dreary. She was standing beside the workbench of the same young boy. He had a cauldron set in front of him and various ingredients spread about. Claira allowed her gaze to drift, and discovered herself to be in one of the dungeon classrooms. The Professor was a tall, slender man, whose beard looked as scraggly as his robes. His voice was gruff and deep, and when he spoke his eyes darted at each student in turn.

"What exactly is potion-making? A chemical science? An ancient philosophy aiming to achieve the transmutation of earthly elements into something useful, valuable or even magical? WRONG! It is an Art. It is a craft that requires skill, obedience, patience and above all, talent. Here, in this very room, you will learn the exact methods for brewing health, fortune, love, life and yes, even death."

At this, Severus snapped his head up, eyes blazing in interest and wonder. _"Even death?"_ he repeated to himself.

"Now, open your books to page twelve. For those of you who failed to complete the summer assignment, read through page eleven on stabilizing cauldron temperatures. Then, and only when you have a firm grasp on the concept, set your burners to boil and await my next instruction. Do not touch the ingredients placed on your desk. And no talking or I shall extract points from your House."

Severus traced his thin, quivering fingers over the book's cover, over the title, before breaking its binding and flipping to the assigned chapter. He then leaned over, his nose almost pressed to the pages, and read. Claira could see his lips form each word, but he did not speak them, only drank them in like a parched root after a hot, drought-ridden summer.

Once he was finished, he set his cauldron to boil as the Professor had instructed. Returning to his book, he read the first five pages on proper ladle handling and stirring, and then further to discover the instruction for brewing his first potion.

Severus glanced up at the teacher, who was too preoccupied with writing the instructions on the blackboard to notice that he had picked up his ladle and a tiny pinch of knotgrass.

He lifted his hand over the cauldron and, just as he was about to drop the ingredient inside, a much larger hand grabbed his wrist, shook the knotgrass from his fingers, and then took his ladle. It was then slammed down on top of his desk by a very angry professor.

"I said, do nothing, idiot boy!"

The small spark of light in Severus's pupils was extinguished, and Claira was aghast to find him cringing beneath the man's towering form, one arm raised in front of his face to shield himself from harm. This was not normal behavior. Not normal at all. The boy's gaunt, frail body was trembling like a leaf, and it was all Claira could do to keep from throwing her arms about him. What horrors hid behind those long, dark lashes?

The Professor stared down at him in utter silence, a look that Claira could only describe as mortification on his face. Then something peculiar, almost familiar passed over his eyes. And in the next moment, his expression had softened and his voice lowered to a tone less threatening. "Think you have what it takes to master a cauldron, do you? Well, let's just see about that. Stand up boy."

Claira watched as two black orbs peeked from beneath the sleeve of Severus's school robes. He then stood and followed the man to the head of the classroom. As Severus looked over his peers, Claira noticed that his guarded scowl had reappeared, and he even sneered at a group of Gryffindor boys that were snickering at him from the back row.

"Now, Mr. Snape, read aloud the first instruction on the board."

"Prepare ingredients, sir," said Severus.

"That is correct. And do you know how to prepare the ingredients? No? Just as I thought. Show me which one is knotgrass." He pointed to a wooden table that held a large, boiling cauldron and many ingredients identical to the ones on Severus's desk.

Severus hesitated. "I do not know which one it is, Professor Falcor."

Falcor? Claira wondered if it was only a coincidence that Severus had named his falcon that. Perhaps not.

"Really? I assumed you did since that was the precise thing you insisted on adding to your cauldron."

He pointed. "Then it is that one, sir."

"Show it to the class. Now, remove its roots - but do not discard them. Place them aside, all of you, and I will collect them afterwards."

Claira stood aside and watched as Professor Falcor taught the class through Severus's demonstrations. His efforts were praised and corrected when necessary, but he did not make mistakes often. Severus had a natural talent. At the end of it, Severus had brewed his first potion. And, that small flicker of life had returned to his eyes.

When the class was dismissed, Severus lingered behind and waited until the other students had gone. He then approached the scraggly, bearded man.

"Professor Falcor, I was curious as to what you meant by being able to brew death. Is it poisons? How...erm... soon do you suppose we will learn it?"

"Human poisons, you mean? Ones which are not detectable by smell or taste? I do not teach the Dark Arts to my students, Mr. Snape. Nor will you find any recipes for fatality in your schoolbooks. Sit down. I want to tell you something that someone once told me when I was a lad." He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. Severus flinched, but did not cringe this time. "Let me tell you a little something about life..."

Claira moved closer, but the room faded to black before she ever heard a word of it. Was it possible that Severus was an abused child? Her heart twisted and knotted. She felt ill. What parent could do that to an innocent little boy or girl? Professor Falcor was a decent man, Claira concluded. And, he may just have been Severus's salvation.

When the light returned, Claira found herself in the company of a young man. It was much easier for her to recognize him as Severus. He was tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a dignified posture. She stood by his side overlooking a small audience. They were in an auditorium of some kind, on a circular stage that was raised a few feet above the crowd. Behind her, she noticed a long row of tables covered with flasks, strange apparatuses, and glass vials that were labeled with second, third and fourth place prize ribbons. One of them had a majestic, blue satin first place ribbon tied to it. Beneath it were the words:

_Name: Severus Snape  
Year: 7th year  
School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Function of Potion: Infinite Invisibility (complete with antidote)_

Claira grinned and turned back towards the crowd. She spotted Dumbledore, looking younger and vibrant, standing in the front row with a proud, fatherly expression on his face - Claira had a hunch that Dumbledore played father to a lot of the students at Hogwarts. She found no sign of Professor Falcor anywhere. That was odd. Wouldn't he have liked to come? She scoured the audience further with her eyes, searching for a trace of Severus's parents. No one in the audience appeared to resemble Severus in the least, and Claira wondered where they could possibly have been during such a glorious occasion. She did notice, however, a small group of curious, almost sinister look men leering in the background. She also noticed that Severus was staring straight back at them, an eerie sort of ambiguous expression on his face.

Then a younger version of Cornelius Fudge walked onto the stage. Everyone clapped upon his arrival. Everyone, that is, except the strange men, who whispered a few words to each other and then quickly left. Fudge, holding a shiny gold trophy and wooden plaque in his hands, approached the podium, held the tip of his wand to his throat and spoke:

"Sonorus!" When his voice reached a loud tone that everyone could hear, he lowered his wand. "Now, on behalf of the Ministry, and all the generous sponsors who contributed to this year's competition, I would like to present this _Honorary Student Achievement Award_ to our winner, Severus Snape, for his extraordinary talent in alchemy and also his prodigious potion entry that has won the favorable vote of our judges."

He handed the trophy and plaque to Severus. "Let us give him a round of applause."

The audience clapped as Severus accepted his award with a humble bow and a firm handshake from the Minister of Magic.

After the ceremony, Dumbledore approached Severus with his own handshake and private applause. "Well done, Severus, well done. Forgive me for saying this - I know you do not wish to speak of it and, perhaps this is not the most appropriate time to bring up his memory, Jonathan's death having been so recent and painful for us all, but I do feel obliged to say that Professor Falcor would have been honored and so very proud to see one of his students, especially his prize pupil, render such an achievement."

Severus's brow creased in sorrow, though he tried to mask it with a scowl. After a few moments, he lowered his eyes to the trophy and plaque in his hands. "If I may, Headmaster, I'd like to donate this to the trophy room at Hogwarts. And, perhaps... perhaps, if at all possible, dedicate it to Professor Falcor for his services to the school."

"You may, Severus. I think that is very befitting. And it is also very noble of you."

"Thank you," Severus muttered, starring down at the awards.

Somehow, Claira didn't think those words were meant for Dumbledore.

Once again, the world darkened and spun into a strong whirlwind. Claira then realized that this collection must be of Severus's fondest memories - his pleasant memories. She frowned. There seemed to be large gaps in time when he experienced something wonderful. And so far, they all took place while he was in school. What about his home life? Were there no happy memories there?

The world came to a slow still and gave light to his third memory.

She now stood beneath the archway of a dungeon classroom. Severus stood at the head of it, overlooking several rows of empty desks and stools. He was younger than he was at present, but a mature wizard nonetheless. Merlin, how handsome he was dressed in his black teaching robes, with his arms crossed over his chest, to further enhance his look of authority. But oh, how disturbed his eyes were, so dark and forbidding. And the scowl he wore seemed now to be permanently engraved, chiseled as it was by past wrong-doing and subsequent remorse. Claira frowned and moved closer. As she approached him, the classroom door creaked open and in walked Dumbledore. He was wearing his majestic Headmaster robes and a warm smile.

"Ah, Severus, I see you have already made preparations for the start of term. And your lesson plans?"

Severus's eyes remained fixed on the vacant classroom. "Yes, Headmaster."

Albus stood beside him and followed his dark gaze across the dungeon. A moment of silence passed between them before Dumbledore spoke. "I realize this must be difficult for you, beginning again, but repentance is not achieved without a certain degree of sacrifice, Severus. Think of all the lives you will touch, the futures you will change - these children need guidance, someone to show them the path to knowledge and understanding, especially during these troubled times. You are doing a good thing, _Professor_."

"Thank you, Albus. However, I still believe my presence would best benefit Hogwarts if I were assigned Defense Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps it is not too late to reconsider--"

"I think we both know the reason why I cannot allow that." Dumbledore gripped his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Perhaps I might reevaluate my decision in a few years time. For now, let us see how you fare with Potions. Remember, Severus, small steps."

At that moment, the castle bell began to chime.

"Ah yes, the children will be arriving soon - come, let us attend the feast."

"I will join you in a moment," said Severus.

"Very well."

Once Dumbledore was gone, Severus sat down behind his desk and pulled out a blank piece of parchment. Claira leaned over his shoulder as he dipped the tip of his quill into a newly opened bottle of ink and wrote:

_You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making..._

He paused to consider his next line of speech.

_As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the soft shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..."_

Another pause, and then he continued.

_"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death..."_

He put down his quill.

"I can improvise the rest," Severus grumbled aloud.

He stood and, holding the parchment in his hand, began to recite the words, as if he were addressing the students. Each time he rehearsed it, his tone lowered, his voice sounded more menacing and his eyes narrowed. He even developed a walk to emphasis the key points. After a few moments, Severus was able to present his speech without the use of written aide and his movements had manifested into a powerful stride around the room.

Severus paused at the very desk he once sat in when he was a child. He stared down at the empty stool, at his shadow, and grimaced. His stony eyes bore into the wood, and then suddenly burned with anger.

"I said, do nothing, idiot boy!" he bellowed. "Think you have what it takes to master a cauldron, do you? Well, let's just see about that."

Severus's gaze remained set on the desk, his dark expression changing to one of sadness. "You were a fool, Jonathan. A bloody fool."

Claira continued to watch his peculiar behavior until a curtain of darkness swallowed her sight. She had just obtained another piece of the puzzle. Severus taught, not for money, but to earn his redemption. He, with Dumbledore's permission, had drafted his own punishment. It appeared, however, that he would have rather served his detention in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. That was strange. She had always thought Alchemy was Severus's first passion. And what had Dumbledore meant by, "I think we both know the reason why I cannot allow that."?

Claira had always known that Severus was once a Deatheater. Dumbledore had explained it to her to forewarn her in the event that she might, one day, remove his clothing and discover his Dark Mark during a medical procedure - which she had, on her first night there. What she did not know was how long Severus had been in Voldemort's regime and what things he had done during that time.

Perhaps she was thinking with more heart than brain, but Claira could not imagine Severus doing anything too sinful or murderous. Deep down, he was caring and passionate. And, although sometimes he took it to the extreme, he always stood up for what he believed was right.

A flash of light broke through the blackness.

Claira was in the school infirmary, staring down at a young woman who was crouched in front of an old, battered cabinet. Severus stood in the doorway, present age, with his arms folded and blood smeared across his robes.

He cleared his throat. "I need to see Madam Pomfrey at once."

When the girl stood and turned around, Claira gasped. It was her. She was her. It was she! An awkward, tingling sensations crept over her body. It was like standing in front of a three-dimensional mirror, only the woman on the other side was much more beautiful and radiant. She was surrounded by a soft, angelic glow, her eyes sparkled like jewels, and her hair fell over her shoulders like a gorgeous, velvet wave. Claira marveled at herself. This was how Severus saw her. It was, by far, the greatest compliment she had ever received. And she wondered if lust exaggerated the appearances of everyone, or if Severus was simply delusional.

"I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey is out. She received an urgent owl and left just a few hours ago," Memory Claira told him.

Did she really sound like that? Good Merlin!

"I see. You must be Ms. Bell, then? I hadn't quite expected you to be so young and inexperienced. No matter, I suppose I can talk you through the procedure." He swept past her towards the medicine room.

Arrogant prick! Still, she found his dark, snarky attitude sexy. And what woman could resist that deep, silky voice? Severus didn't know it, but he had her at first insult.

"Professor Snape, is it? I don't pretend to know everything, but I have learned enough to recognize that your injuries were caused by a male Graphorn." Memory Claira paused to observe the abrasions on his hands. "And possibly a female as well."

He raised his brow at her.

" Now, if you'll please, Professor, sit down. Those wounds require immediate attention." She grabbed a cart and headed for the medicine room.

Claira blushed at her own words. It was her best attempt at showing off; she had flaunted her talent in his face. It was an embarrassing thing to witness.

Turning her attention back on Severus, Claira watched him remove his cloak and torn vest, before sitting down on one of the beds. Then he did the one thing that she never thought she would see him do. Stealing a glance at the medicine room and, certain that she was out of sight, Severus raised his arms above his head and sniffed his armpits. It was obvious that he was conscious of his hygiene and did not want to give her the impression that he was smelly, but it was still the most hilarious thing that Claira had ever seen. She clapped her hand over her mouth and laughed herself silly. The rest of the scene played out through most of her giggles - she didn't need to see it all really. She was there, and she remembered mending his wounds, the innuendos, and the snagged zipper on his trousers, the embarrassment and the smuggled food.

When the memory ended, Claira found herself engulfed in blackness. She grinned to herself. The man was utterly fascinating. The things he did while he was alone were surprising, yet somehow displayed his vulnerability. Severus was not a two-legged stone; he was capable of being nervous, self-conscious and insecure. These were qualities that, oddly enough, Claira wanted to see more of.

When she came to, she was in Severus's study. He was sitting behind his desk shuffling through a stack of parchment, grading essays no doubt. As he reached for his quill, a light tap sounded at the door. Claira turned to see herself walk in, only she was not wearing the outfit that she remembered. This one was much more provocative, and tight, and revealing. Why, she looked like a harlot! That was _not_ what she wore that night. Her skirt wasn't nearly that short and her boobs were _not_ popping out of her blouse! Is that all men think about? Honestly! It was absurd. No wonder the man spilt his inkbottle all over the place.

"Dammit," grumbled Severus. He cleaned the mess with his wand and banished the stained parchments to the rug to be dried by the fire.

"Sorry, is this a bad time? I can come back later if you like," said Memory Claira.

She, in all essence, had nothing to do with his little blunder. Besides, it served him right for having such lecherous thoughts about her.

Severus then ordered Memory Claira to sit beside him on the rug by use of a silent invitation. He snapped his fingers and pointed. She, of course, went.

"You're not getting off that easy. This is half your fault." He shoved a stack of papers into her hands. "So, you are going to help clean up half the mess."

Memory Claira put up her best defense. "What did I do? I was standing by the door the whole time!"

"You distracted me."

How like Severus to blame it on anybody but himself.

Claira grinned as she remembered what was to come next - the infamous paper snatching. She watched as Severus made several foolish attempts to take the parchment from her hand, only to have her nick it back time and time again. She snickered at her own childishness, but it was entertaining just the same.

"Miss Bell, really. I refuse to participate in your silly little game of cat and mouse. Either hand me the paper properly, or place it in the bloody folder yourself."

Once again, she had managed to dupe him into another round. Claira giggled once more as the scene unfolded, until Severus stood to defend his pride. That was when Memory Claira attacked him and knocked him backwards onto the floor. She straddled his waist and stole his wand from his pocket, then ran for dear life. He chased her to get his wand back. But Claira did not miss the slight smirk on his face this time around; he had enjoyed the game just as much as she had. Severus could be playful and childlike when he relaxed and allowed himself to be.

Soon the two were on the sofa, playing a very adult game. Claira blushed as she watched Severus bind her wrists together with his hand and pop the first button on her blouse with the other.

"You wouldn't dare!" Memory Claira then challenged with a disguised smile.

It wasn't much of a disguise, Claira now realized. She was awfully predictable.

"Wouldn't I?" Severus purred in his unique, rumbling tone of voice. He defiantly undid the rest of her blouse and brushed the pieces aside to expose her black, lace bra.

Oh my! Claira felt dirty watching herself make out with the school's Potions Professor, and yet it aroused her at the same time. Severus now had his hips between her thighs making his arousal known, while his fingers stroked her breasts. He was about to undo her bra clasp and kiss her when that dreaded knock sounded at his door.

The room faded to black. Claira's pulse raced faster than the pensieve spun her body. She remembered that well. It was the launch of their intimacy. Every encounter thereafter was more intense and heart pumping than the last. Looking back, she could see that their bodily union was inevitable.

Claira also noted how brief Severus's collection of memories appeared to be. It was almost as if he rushed to the pensieve whenever something good happened to him, as if he might forget it, or that someone might take it away.

The light returned again.

She was sitting in a carriage, rain pounding the windows and wooden roof as a storm stirred overhead. Across from her, sat Severus and her Memory Self, entangled in a warm embrace. She held the rose he had purchased for her earlier that morning between her fingers, twirling it about and marveling at it. Severus had his eyes on her, on her face, her chest, her hands, her legs, and then her chest again. The rain had soaked her dress and in doing so caused the fabric to become limpid and cling to her breasts. Severus stared at her breasts often, Claira noticed. The man was a genius, peculiar and arcane, but at the end of the day he was still a man after all.

Memory Claira placed the scarlet rose back inside its box, covered it, and then lifted her gaze to him. "Why did you buy this for me?"

Severus looked abashed for a moment, but soon collected himself. His expression then softened as he tilted her mouth to his.

The man never missed an opportunity to take advantage of the situation, Claira mused.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Their lips met for the first time, slow and gentle. He was smooth, careful and knew just how to lure her into his cave of seduction. Memory Claira closed her eyes and dove in head first, into love, and into his hot, passionate kiss. Claira smiled. Severus was a true master with his tongue - and various other parts of his body, she had recently come to find out.

The kiss seemed to last an eternity, and when the carriage finally stopped, Severus's hand had slithered its way up her dress and almost beneath her knickers. Oh, he was good! She hadn't noticed that before, too befuddled and dizzy from his crafty lips, she supposed.

"Come with me to my study?" he whispered, tracing his finger over her reddened cheeks. "There's something I'd like to show you."

Memory Claira, with an innocent smile, nodded and followed him out of the carriage.

The world blackened.

Claira had a suspicion that Severus had nothing in mind to show her, except maybe the wonders of his four-poster bed. His mind was always scheming, always contriving stratagems to achieve that which he set out to conquer. And, one thing Claira had learned over time was that _Severus Snape gets what Severus Snape wants. _

The light returned, and Claira saw that she was, once again, inside the school's infirmary. The room was silent, except for the faint crackle of flames from the fireplace.

_"So beautiful." _Claira heard someone whisper. She glanced down and saw Severus and her Memory Self lying on one of the cots. Their bodies were entwined and she was asleep, while Severus remained awake, staring down at her as if she were the eighth wonder of the world. Beside them, on the nightstand, was her crossword puzzle, and on the next bed over was her Gameboy Advance. Claira remembered this. Oh, how much trouble he had gotten her into the next morning. And, he had also managed to get himself banned from the hospital for an infinite amount of time.

Claira watched as Severus stole several kisses from her lips. It was then that she noticed her sweater was open, and that Severus's fingers had somehow found their way to her bra. Why, that absolute sneak! He grazed his palms over her erect nipples, but every time he attempted to touch them beneath the fabric she would stir or whimper. This seemed to keep his sticky fingers at bay. How dare he! Had she known, she never would have fallen asleep in his arms.

After a long session of pawing and kissing, Severus refastened her sweater and hugged her against his body. He then pressed his cheek to her temple and closed his eyes.

The scene slipped into darkness. Another lesson learned. Severus had an impertinent knack for abusing his privileges. Could that be a direct result of his upbringing, or was it simply a product of his rotten Slytherin traits?

When her sight returned, Claira gasped. She was on the ledge of a tower, surrounded by the night sky and its infinity of twinkling stars. This was Severus's special place. And oh, how romantic it was.

"A younger version of myself used to frequent this place. As you can imagine, I spent a great deal of time gazing at the stars. I was a foolish lad seeking knowledge and guidance through celestial influence. It was a poor substitute for the parental shepherding I lacked, but I needed assistance in finding the correct path to follow, as I would often lose my way."

Claira spun around to see Severus kneeling on the marble footing. Her Memory Self was standing near the window, mouth agape and eyes widened in awe.

It took her a moment to snap out of it. "So what happened, why did you stop coming?"

"I found a detour."

He said no more on the subject. Right on cue, the cold wind swept through and Severus motioned for Memory Claira to take up residence in his lap. She sat with her back pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms and cloak around her to keep them both warm.

"Are you familiar with the constellations?"

"Not exactly."

"Well then, allow me to educate you."

They spent the night locked in that embrace, while Severus kissed her neck and murmured his teachings in her ear. Claira sighed. She wanted to continue watching, but time was something of the essence. She was certain that it was past midnight and she had yet to view the other pensieve. Besides, they shared these memories together.

Claira withdrew her wand. "Exin Exim!"

The spell ended the memory and thrust her into the next scene. She was now standing in a large auditorium, surrounded by a panel of well-dressed individuals. Claira spotted Cornelius Fudge on the highest platform, overlooking the center stage. Severus stood there in his black, dignified robes, vial in hand, and a projector flashing his chemical formulas on the canvas behind him. This was Severus's potion conference! Oh, how she had wanted to come and watch.

Claira walked down the podium steps and sat in the first row. Severus had already plunged into his speech, educating them on the effects of crossbreeding fluxweed and wormroot, and something else about bundimun secretions. They all looked as baffled by it as she. Thirty minutes into his lecture, Claira began to realize that she might not have enough time to watch the entire proceedings. If she remembered it correctly, the conference lasted a total of four hours. Severus had already told her what happened, detail by detail, and perhaps one day she can sneak back in and see the whole thing for herself. For now, she had a riddle to solve, and as important as the event was, she had to move on.

She sighed and lifted her wand. "Exin Exim!"

In the next moment, Claira stood in Severus's bedchambers, staring back at the image of herself dressed in nothing but one of his long-sleeved shirts. Behind her, Severus gasped, and Claira spun around to see him standing in the doorway gobsmacked. It was a look she would never forget. He dropped the bundle of clothes he held and slipped into zombie mode. Claira chuckled. Severus had not expected to find her half nude and primed for a night of passion. It was the final act of her secret seduction: bewitch, bother and bewilder. She had achieved it without even knowing it. The only problem was he had not confessed his undying love for her, as promised by the magazine article. No, the result was quite the contrary. He did, however, accept her proposal for the night.

She watched the scene unfold.

"...I was hoping that I could... that I could sleep here tonight."

Severus and Memory Claira were now locked in a warm embrace. "I suppose I can make use of the sofa--"

"No," she whispered.

"Where do you suggest I sleep then?"

"With me," breathed Memory Claira. "In your bed... with me."

"You don't know what you ask."

"Yes I do," she corrected him. "I'm asking you to sleep with me."

"No."

"Wha - Why? Why not?" she pouted.

"Because, Claira, I do not trust myself to be a gentleman if I did."

She was relentless. "Maybe I don't want you to be a gentleman."

"You are distraught... ah... vulnerable, and given the circumstances, I don't think you quite realize the permanency of your request--"

"I know what I want," she pushed further. "I want to be with you. Severus... Please, if only for tonight."

"You will regret it in the morning," he said, giving it one last attempt to sway her mind to reconsider.

"Then that will be my mistake, not yours." She then kissed him and initiated the spark that would lead them to his bed.

Claira realized that she was to blame for Severus's erratic behavior the next morning. She had pushed for him to make love to her, seduced him when he was vulnerable and least expecting. He had not planned to make love to her that night - it was her idea. And it was her persistence that frightened him away. She had expected devotion and commitment afterwards, which he apparently was not ready for; she wanted too much too soon.

"Exin Exim!" Claira did not need to see the rest. She knew what happened and how it happened, and how foolish she was.

The world spiraled around her, tossing her body to and fro, and then it spat her out of the pensieve and onto the hardwood floor of Severus's attic.

She was alone.

Claira covered her face with her hands and shut her eyes. It was a lot of information to take in at one time. Severus had so little joy in his life, and then to think that she made up the majority of his favorite remembrances was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Exhaling a deep breath, Claira opened her eyes and stared at the other pensieve through her parted fingers. If the smaller one held his fondest memories, she could only assume that the other basin held his worst...

**Meanwhile....**

Severus lay watching the sands of time pour through the reedy funnel of his hourglass from the discomfort of his creaky, undersized bed. It was two in the morning. He had not slept the previous night and, judging by his current condition of restlessness, he could say that he had contracted a rather incommodious case of insomnia. It was Claira's fault, of course. What with her infectious kisses and sexual will, the girl had rendered him a bloody lecher. Oh yes, he wanted her again. That was evident by his engorged member and aching testicles. He had dealt with vasocongestion on a steady basis, as a hormonal teenager and as a sexually deprived adult - that was easily taken care of with a few rapid hand strokes and ejaculation. What disturbed him was the fact that this was his third erection of the night.

He concluded that masturbation was not an adequate antidote to his ailment.

Severus licked his parched lips and, by doing so, formulated another solution that might cure his affection - or at the least distract his mind from the root of the problem. Ogdens Old Firewhisky. It had been over a week since he last indulged himself. And what better friend did a wizard of his solitary status have than a bottle of the finest brewed liquor to ever grace the fire of a cauldron?

He slipped out from beneath the covers and dressed, taking extra care with tucking his under-sexed, over-stimulated genitals inside his trousers. Once in the hallway, he engaged his mastery skills of stealth and silent motion, which were embedded in him from years of stalking naughty children out after curfew, not to mention his previous status of secret double agent extraordinaire. He had employed it more out of habit than necessity, but he also did not want to rouse the sleeping dragoness, whose quarters were located only a foot or so from the height of the stairs.

Severus had made it as far as the entrance to the study when he heard the sudden, muffled sound of voices chattering from the opposite side of the door. He stepped into the shadows of the corridor and listened. After a few moments of concentration, he determined one of the voices to be Jacob's. The others were partnered to unfamiliar females cackling like hens in a roost. Severus smirked to himself. He knew the situation wrought potential for future coercion or perhaps even blackmail if the circumstance should call for it.

Severus took hold of both mahogany door handles and pulled them open.

He was greeted by the sight of his brother, clad in his underpants and a thin, unbuttoned shirt that displayed a scant patch of hair on his gaunt chest. Severus sneered at the spectacle. Jacob was reclined on the floor atop of several red pillow cushions and surrounded by a flock of half-nude whores, each of a different hair color and ethnicity.

Jacob started at the sight of him and spilt his brandy over the nude breasts of the woman who had, at that very moment, been toying with the small lump in his pants. Severus counted six prostitutes in total, all quite beautiful, which meant that his brother had, yet again, dipped a hefty hand in the family vaults at Gringotts.

"Enjoying yourself, I see." Severus crossed his arms and swept his eyes over the abundance of feminine flesh.

Jacob relaxed a bit when he realized it was Severus, not his mother, who had walked in on his sexual regale. Still, he had been caught in a rather compromising position and knew better than to joust with the cold-blooded snake, especially since he was at a disadvantage.

"Ah, Severus, do come in. Having trouble sleeping, are we? Here, have a shot of brandy." Jacob fumbled with a spare snifter that was set aside. He tipped the adjoining bottle of brandy to it and then handed the drink to a slim, exotic brunette. "Ladies, you and... you, I should think - why don't the two of you welcome my brother and see to it that he is _comfortable_."

Severus eyed the beauties as they stood, one of them a tall, busty blonde and the other a petite, golden skinned woman from the Hawaiian Islands. He chose not to argue, but to remain silent and weigh his options. They approached him with invitational smiles and, when they came near enough, kissed his cheek each in turn. He was handed the glass and he drank it in one full swallow.

He handed it back and cocked his brow towards the open liquor cabinet. "Fill it with Ogdens Firewhisky - from an unopened bottle."

The woman complied with his demand, while the curvaceous blonde led him to an evergreen armchair. She wore only a silk, silver thong and her pink, swelled nipples poked at his shirt when she pulled him down to sit on it. It was then that her partner returned, placed the glass in his hand and striped to her knickers.

Jacob occupied himself by lapping up the brandy he had spilt on the redhead's bosom. The other three women were busy massaging his limbs and lower torso. Severus glanced over once to confirm that his brother's attention was directed on his own actions, before settings his sight on the whisky in his hand. His two whores had taken up residence in his lap, their fingers and teeth working to free buttons. He quaffed down his drink and then set it on the side table. Shifting his legs, he inclined his body to a relaxed position, finding favor in the sensual feeling of two warm mouths gliding over bare flesh. Severus sighed and closed his eyes.

This was what he needed, a pleasurable distraction - a physical remedy for the chaos in his trousers. It was a ridiculous concept to think that only one woman possessed the power to satisfy his needs. They were all the same, creatures with soft, warm skin and an anatomy designed to fit a male's counterpart. Why must a primordial act such as sex be complicated by thought and emotion? One had nothing to do with the other; given evidence to the fact that he felt nothing but physical stimulation when the twin mouths lowered to the outer recess of his trousers.

Claira was nothing but a silly girl with idiotic notions. _I love you_. What an absurd confession. The feeling does not exist; hence the word has no meaning. It was nothing more than a mythical concoction of imagination and strategy spawned by the mind of some randy fool in search of a lay.

Any woman would suffice, Severus concluded. He was simply a man in need of a receptor. In this particular case and time, he had two of them. Problem solved. Soon, he would be cured and able to return to normalcy, or at least incur enough sleep for his brain to function.

The women had unfastened the clasp and were in the process of unbuttoning his trousers when he noticed, to his dissatisfaction, that he was only semi erect. Severus clenched his teeth and strained to clear his thoughts. He searched for a blank palette in his mind, found one, but even that became blotched with images of Claira after a moment or two of concentration. His occlumency skills were profound, mastered; yet he could not block these particular reminiscences.

Severus made a second attempt, but no matter how he tried his mind would not release the memories of the previous night, nor the one before that. He could not forget how Claira felt, how she looked or the soft, siren sounds that she made as he moved under her, over her, inside her.

His loins caught fire and burned with a feral desire.

It was then that Severus realized he should use the memories as an aid to the antidote, rather than attempt to discard them. He could make believe the hands that had just pulled down his trousers were Claira's and that it was her lips and tongue, which were caressing the bare skin of his thighs. Oh, yes. He imagined her as she looked staring up at him, lust and passion blazing in her eyes as he lowered his mouth to taste the sweet nectar of her lips.

His mouth parted to welcome her tongue as it pushed past his teeth. When their tongues entwined, he almost gagged at the foul flavor - it was not Claira. She had a unique taste and feel to her that no other woman could possibly imitate; he had sampled enough to decipher the difference. And it was a foolish attempt to substitute divine purity for a common slut.

Severus opened his eyes and captured the blonde by the back of her hair. He twisted his fingers around her locks and yanked her head away from him with a force that ripped a few strands out of her scalp. She yelped.

"I did not grant permission for an opened mouth kiss, filthy whore," Severus hissed. He lunged from the chair and, by doing so, knocked both women onto the floor.

He pulled his trousers up in a dash, fastened himself and ignored the stares as he tore open the study door and stormed out.

Jacob beckoned the abandoned harlots into his lap and grinned. It was _definitely _a woman, he told himself. No other object could force a man away from sex, except for the opportunity of a better lay. Who was this little minx? Where did Severus find her? What was her name? He had to know. His eyes narrowed in curiosity and, in that moment, as the six courtesans tugged off his underpants, he made a silent vow to find out.

Once inside the cold confines of his bedroom, Severus shed his clothes and swept inside the bathroom. Reaching into the cabinet, he snatched out his toothbrush, squeezed a glob of antibacterial, peppermint paste onto it and scrubbed his mouth clean. He spat into the sink several times before stepping into the shower. It did not faze him that the water was freezing; he was too busy scrubbing and clawing at his chest to rid the disgust from his skin to even bother turning the knobs.

What the devil was wrong with him? He had lost his appetite for whores, his thoughts were in complete chaos and he had no desire for sleep. Severus pounded his fists against the wall and snarled through the heavy streams of liquid that spattered his face. He had lost control over himself. In a brief moment of weakness, he had succumbed to Claira's muliebral magic and had allowed her to penetrate his mind.

Severus growled and pressed his forehead to the cold, wet tiles. He then squeezed his eyes shut and made one last-ditch effort to erase all thoughts of the tantalizing witch. But, to his dismay, her memory remained in tact and he envisioned her as he knew her to be, lying in bed, distraught and wondering if he might return to her. Had Claira known that his night had been spent in the company of two sordid demimondes, he had no doubt that she would also be weeping, her heart shattered.

Guilt over came him, although he had made no promises to be faithful or that he would even continue on with the affair. Despite his father's execrable example, Severus had learnt the meaning of loyalty. He was not so ignorant as to think Claira would not expect a certain amount of fidelity if he were to bed her again.

It would not be a difficult feat to ward off other women, Severus admitted to himself; he was of no interest to them, unless he were to dangle a satchel of gold in front of their noses. Claira was not prone to such behavior. And the more he considered her virtue, the more he pondered whether or not it would be possible to train her in ways that might keep her invisible to the ministry and, at the same time, in his arms - that is, until he had his fill of her.

Yes, it was indeed possible. Claira had instilled her trust in him, and by doing so had granted him indefinite powers of manipulation. He could have her on demand and forsake her at will. It all seemed so simple, almost too enticing to resist.

Before he realized it, Severus was out of the shower and into a clean set of robes. His mind planned the foundation for his scheme, while his legs followed the same sly path through the manor that he had woven earlier, only this time he headed for the main doors instead of the study.

He stepped out into the wintry night, relieved to find the snow had subsided. Folding his arms over his chest, he made for the brook; it was the nearest point of apparation. As he walked, he imagined Claira's slender form, undressed and curled beneath her bedcovers awaiting his arrival. He would provide her the warmth and romance she sought, and in return he would reap a cure for his galling condition. It was a fair enough trade.

His stride quickened to a partial run.

The crescent moon lit a bleak path over the hill; he followed it down the slope and into a clearing. Here he found peace, serenity and his mark of freedom.

With his wand raised high, he cleared his throat and then spoke to the four winds, "Hogwarts."

**Meanwhile, inside Severus's secret room....**

Claira sat up on her knees and wiped her sweaty palms dry on her jeans. Her blue eyes glistened with fear, excitement, dread and curiosity, as she stared at the large stone basin perched upon the table. It was late. She should leave and return to it another night. There was not enough time left before morning... but what if time would not allow her this opportunity again? Severus was due back any day and, once he returned, he would never let her look inside the pensieve; she could not ask him for permission and wouldn't dare tell him that she had snuck into his hidden chamber. He would be furious with her.

The time was now or never, she decided.

Peeling herself off the rough, wooden floor, Claira approached the basin and leaned over it. The swirling, silver clouds entranced her eyes and seduced her body to move closer... closer... she saw the faint image of a small, crouching figure; it appeared to be hiding behind something massive, but she could not make sense of all the blurs. She needed to look closer.

The tips of her hair kissed the surface of the mist and, as if it were devil's snare, the liquid wrapped around her curls and tugged her forward.

In the next moment, she was engulfed in blackness.

**To be continued.... **

Author's note: I do apologize for the cliffhanger. It is just that I have so much more to write and couldn't possibly include it all in this chapter - it would be over forty pages long! Besides, I believe the second pensieve deserves its own space and should not be crammed or rushed through. I'm sure that you will agree.... I hope that you will agree.... Please don't hurt me!

**

Commentaries

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jonquillejaune: I must make a confession. I had given up on this story for about three weeks. I know I said I would see it through, but I was exhausted, felt ignored and under appreciated do to the lack of reviews for my last chapter, which I had spent several months working on. They slowly came in and I received a couple that really rehashed my spirit. As you can see, I am back and ready to deliver. Thank you for reminding me that there are still readers out there who want to read my writing.

And no, Claira is NOT going to have sex with Jacob! Don't be ridiculous! Although, it would make for a wicked turn of events, wouldn't it?.... the answer is still no. I have a much grander plan.

angelfire33: You are right! Severus is a genius when it comes to magic and potions, but an idiot when it comes to women. Glad to hear from you.

Intelligent Witch: Do you really think sex is all that Severus wants from Claira? That's what he tells himself, isn't it? Then why did he stay awake all night thinking of her, fantasizing about her, risk his mother's wrath and possibly his inheritance to see her, why did he walk through a snowstorm in a thin shirt, trousers and cloak just to be with her? Wouldn't it have been just as easy to take in a prostitute if all he craved was sex? Hm, peculiar behavior for a man who cares nothing about a silly girl, wouldn't you say? Severus can tell himself that he feels nothing for her all he wants, but we see and know the truth. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

Queen of the Sacred Flames: Horny Jerk... yep! Think he might change? Maybe. Do you really want him to? Thanks for the feedback.

Pickles87: There are many possibilities and circumstances to ponder. One that you can be sure is that Claira is indeed a muggleborn. Sorry. It is written in stone. If it were that easy, what would Severus learn from the experience? It has to hurt if it's to heal, I always say. And Severus is going to hurt before he learns the true meaning of love. There is no other way. Please continue reading; I enjoy your reviews.

Sportzjunkie: Ah, yes. You are very intelligent for your age. I read your bio and was astounded to learn that you are still in high school. Your perception and understanding is highly advanced - more than most adults I know. You have a deep sense of Snape and what makes him tick. I was hoping to read a Snape fic from you. I saw that you have written Harry Potter fiction, but do forgive me as I am a strict, diehard Snape fan and have not dabbled in any other genre. I am a mother, married and act as if I am worldly, I know. The truth is I am only 24.

I love reading your reviews and feel you are the reader most in tune with my writing. You pick up on every little detail and have a brilliant understanding of my interpretation of Snape. You have no idea how important you are to the continuation of this story; I can not tell you how many times your comments alone have pushed me to keep writing during times when I feel that I am wasting my time. So to simply say 'thank you' would not do justice, but it will have to suffice. Please keep reading.

Lunalesca: LOL. Why does everyone want Claira to sleep with another man? I realize everyone wants revenge on Snape and that he is due for punishment, but believe me when I say that it is coming. And when it comes, you can trust that he will get every bit back what he has dished out - just in a different sense. Besides, I think Severus does a good enough job of punishing himself, without Claira having to say a word or even lift a finger. Guilt is a powerful thing.

Run Wild: A big hug to you for all your help and work you put into teaching me. I wonder if you realize how important you are to the inner workings of this story. If not for your guidance I would still be lost in a sea of mistakes and surrounded by vicious grammar sharks. You are my hero!

FireValkyrie: You are on the right track. Take nothing for face value and you will unravel the treat within the soured cabbage - I sound like a fortune cookie! Sorry about that.

Bittersweet angel: I think Claira is wondering the same thing. Severus is confused, misguided and believes in the notion that 'absence makes the heart forget'. How wrong he is, as he is beginning to realize. On to plan B. Keep reading!

Beth: I have tried to write ahead of myself but find that I keep running into walls and writer's block. I guess we all have a different writing strategy. Unfortunately, mine is very slow and tedious. It takes a long time for me to get my ideas onto the screen - my philosophy is similar to the "tortoise and the hare" motto. Slow and steady, steady and slow... quality over quantity. Some turtles are equipped with a jetpack, and oh how I envy them!

Tracy: No, this is not the end. There will be more, much more. This is a novel-based fic, not just a story. Hope it isn't too long for you. Thanks for reviewing.

Annie: Have you gotten this far yet? I hope so. Thank you for reading.

Eadha Ohn: Ha ha ha! Yes, I purposely began this story as if it were the beginning of an erotic porno to capture the reader's attention. The inclination for smut seems to draw the most attention from readers on Fanfiction . net. Can you sense my bitterness? In reality, this story was targeted at the more mature, intelligent audience. I agree Snape may have been slightly OC in the first few chapters - I was learning how to write and express my ideas. I also agree that Gary Oldman was not how I envisioned Sirius Black to look like. I saw him as handsomer, taller and more youthful. I also thought of Lupin as being handsome, but David Thewlis's brilliant acting made up for his misinterpretation.

V: (Looks around flushed) Erm... "Slash" is man on man loving, honey. I think you mean, "smut". Ha ha ha! Claira is definitely a woman and Snape a man. I think I understand what you were trying to say though. So thanks!

Obadiah Slope: You nailed it! You have a keen perception. Good for you! You are exactly right. Snape is not a great man, but he does have potential. Claira must learn to accept that part of him and hopefully bring out his finer qualities. Thanks for your comments.

Courtney Anne: I am flattered by your compliments. One thing I am most adamant about when I write is emotion. I strive to bring out feelings that readers can relate to and sympathize with. It is what I look for in good fiction and hope to express in my own work. Thank you for reassuring me. It means a great deal.

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A special 'thank you' to all who take the time to review!

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	34. Mysteries Revealed

Chapter: 34

**Be warned:** This chapter contains extreme violence, language,thoughts ofsuicideand various other adult themes not suitable for children, or the weak at heart. If you find any of these subjects offensive, please do not continue reading...

**Mysteries Revealed **(Part 2)

Claira felt her body spiral into the darkness. She was inside the pensieve, on a cold, weightless journey to Severus's memories. When the light touched her eyes, she found herself standing in the corner of a large, spacious study. Movement beneath her feet drew her attention to a small, crouching figure - it was the same one she had seen from the surface of the basin. The massive object that it hid behind was an evergreen-colored armchair. She knelt down and discovered the figure to be a tiny boy, no older than the age of five. Long, stringy black hair curtained his pale face and the tattered clothes he wore, which were once of good quality, hung loose off his bony body. He looked undernourished and just as neglected as his garments.

Claira leaned closer to see what he was doing, as his attention was fixed on his shoes. Peering over his shoulder, she saw that he had wooden statues in his hands. One was a knight, holding a chipped sword and a shield that had lost its paint centuries ago. The other was a horse with a missing hoof; both looked as if they had been burnt at one point in time. They did not move on their own, like most wizard toys, and Claira suspected that Severus might have stolen them from a Muggle's dustbin.

She watched as he made them dance in circles, like two merry mates on a grand adventure.

"Come horse! We must save the girl from that bloody dwagon!" he murmured.

Claira giggled and crawled on all fours to sit beside him. His face was hidden from view, but she could hear his animated whispers. It was normal play for a child, which made her wonder why he was hidden and only speaking in undertones. Then she heard it; an explosive noise that made her body jolt.

BANG!

Someone - or something - had made a violent entrance into the room. Severus shrank into the shadows, holding his horse and knight against his chest as if they might get taken away. Claira, panicked by the intrusion, darted her eyes about the study for a place to hide. Just as she was about to move, another set of footsteps thundered inside. Then she heard a sound that made her cringe.

_SMACK!_

A woman yelped in pain.

"THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE FROM ME, DID YOU?"

_SMACK! _

_SMACK! _

The same woman cried out in agony, "Enough! Leave it be!"

"I am not done with you, wench," came an angry, male voice. "How dare you make such accusations against my good name? That girl - that woman, was niece to Bartemius Crouch, the bloody head of the Ministry's International Co-operation Department! I did him a favor to show his niece around London for the weekend - "

"Since when does 'showing his niece around London' involve a room at the Gore Hotel?" She stood tall, despite her quivering voice.

Claira gathered up the courage to peek around the edge of the armchair. What she saw made her gasp - it was Severus! No, the small boy was Severus - that was his father. Gods, they were almost identical in appearance, with the same piercing, dark eyes, strong chin and aristocratic nose. The man had, what Claira could only assume was Severus's mother's arm, in a tight hold and he was shaking her.

"Who told you? Who told you that nonsense?" His lip twitched and his greasy, black hair thrashed about his face in fury. "Answer me!"

"What difference does it make? She is not the first. Don't look so surprised - I know about the others." She writhed her arm out of his grasp and turned towards the fireplace, blood oozing from her right nostril. "I knew it the moment you choked out your vows at our wedding that you preferred whores to a wife. I knew then of your appetite for lies. Your eyes were filthy with sin."

"But that did not stop you from bearing my _unholy _child, did it? Do drop your veil of innocence, my dear." His mouth twisted into a sneer. "You married my name - you whored yourself out for riches and power, and with it the respect that would come when you bore an heir."

She whirled around, her eyes cloaked in loathing. "I did what was asked of me, what a bought wife is intended to do. I gave birth to that damnable son of yours, that poor excuse for a pureblood seed! And to what am I indebted? An empty manor house and an adulterous husband who doesn't know how to keep his todger in his trousers!"

_SMACK! _

The woman fell to her knees and wept into her hands.

"I would sooner drown that wretch of a son than offer you a wink of gratitude. He is an embarrassment to both the Snape surname and myself. Ne'er a day goes by that I look upon him, and am I not reminded of the foul bitch from which he was breed." He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it at her. "Get up! Clean your face. You disgust me."

The woman's eyes burned with fury and humiliation. She cast them upon him and waited until his back was turned, before drawing her wand from a hidden slit in her dress. She pointed it at him, but her reflection in the mirror, which hung on the wall beside the double doors, gave away her intentions. In a flash, the dark-robed man, with wand in hand, wheeled around and shouted:

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The woman was disarmed, and knelt trembling in his wake. He did not speak, but his eyes exploded with a murderous rage. Slipping his wand back into his pocket, he grabbed her by the back of her hair and dragged her out of the study. She went shrieking, and clawed at his legs like a defiant feline unwilling to yield.

Claira did not see where they had gone, nor did she want to know. Severus's father was a monster. His mother was no better for the way she spoke of Severus, as if he were an unwanted burden. They both treated him as an object of hatred, a weapon with which to wound the other. It was obvious that they were not in love. Glancing down at the tiny boy, Claira saw that he had his statues at play again, only this time the knight was stabbing his horse in the belly and he was muttering angry words at them.

As if he had sensed her presence in the room, Severus snapped his head up and stared straight through her. It was the first time she had seen his face since the memory began, and what she saw made her shudder. His eyes resembled two black stones, and he had a large, swollen welt that extended from his temple to his jaw. It looked like a fresh wound. Claira clapped her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes.

When she opened them, she was swallowed by the spinning darkness.

There was a second flash of light, which placed Claira at the end of a long corridor lit by candles. She heard muffled moans and grunts coming from the room to her right. When she turned to investigate, she saw Severus standing in the doorway, peering inside. He was older now, possibly nine years of age. His hair was longer, but his body was just as gaunt and unhealthy as before. Did the boy not eat?

Standing behind him, Claira peeped over his head and saw two nude figures entangled on a massive canopy bed. The woman on top had long, flowing black hair and a slender frame. She looked familiar. It was the woman from the previous memory - it was Severus's mother. The man beneath her, however, was not her husband. This man had sandy blonde hair that fanned over the full length of the pillow. It was an eerie sight, with the curtains billowing around them from the breeze of the opened window and the shadows of their moving bodies dancing upon the walls with the crackling firelight, like two thieving ghosts in the night.

The woman threw her head back and screamed in ecstasy, while the man groaned and thrust his hips upwards and into her with rapid strokes. Severus tried to retreat in silence, but the floorboard creaked beneath his shoes. His mother's bleak, lifeless eyes darted at the door, and she stared down at her son with a shameless expression on her face.

Claira felt a shiver run up her spine when she saw the corners of the woman's thin mouth curl into a cold, wicked smile.

The light faded.

Claira spiraled into the black abyss, confused by what she had seen. It wasn't until she entered the next memory that she began to understand the smugness behind his mother's grin. The pensieve placed her inside the exact corridor she had just left, only this time the bedroom door was closed and the one across the hall from it was cracked open. Severus sat on the floor in front of it, hugging his legs and rocking his body back and forth. He looked to be the same age as before, maybe a year older. He was staring through the open crevice, eyes fixed on the events inside.

Leaning forward, Claira stood over him and peered into the room. She saw his mother, reclined in a rocking chair with a small bundle of blankets hugged to her breast. She was humming a soft lullaby and smiling down at the newborn baby in her arms. This smile was warm and nurturing, and her eyes were lit with pride. Through a small fold in the blanket, Claira saw a sprout of sandy blonde hair. It was the same hair as that of the man from the previous memory - the man with whom Severus's mother had committed adultery.

The baby began to whimper, and the woman's eyes flashed at the door. Severus had made no noise, but it was obvious that his mother had blamed him for waking the child. She stood with the baby cradled in her arms and swayed with tender movements to the door. When she reached it, she scowled down at the tiny boy, who was now a miniature replica of his father, and snapped the door shut in his face.

Severus continued to stare at the door, his frail body rocking to the rhythm of his mother's soothing hums. He was alone in the shadows, forsaken by his parent's hatred for each other, and unloved by the small world around him.

Claira fought back the tears and reached out for the little boy, but he slipped away into the darkness.

The Pensieve did not allow her time to cry; faster than she could blink, it had thrown her into the light of his next memory. Claira now stood in Severus's private laboratory - only it was different than the way she remembered. It was the same cold chamber, but nothing was in its proper place, nor did she recognize any of his belongings.

Her eyes swept over the room in bewilderment until she spotted a figure hunched over one of the tables.

Severus was now in his third year of study. He was tall for his age but his school robes, like his previous garments, hung limp off his scrawny shoulders and slim frame. His nose had grown larger though. Moving closer, she saw flashes of light and heard his soft murmurs of enchantment. A pretty red bow caught her eye. She was astonished to discover he was transforming clumps of chocolate into miniature heart-shaped treats. The empty cauldron to his left, with brown goop around its rim, was an indication that he had made the chocolates himself.

Claira watched as he packed them inside a white gift box and tied it with a matching red ribbon. It took him a few attempts to center the bow but at last he managed it, just as the school bell chimed. Folding a tiny piece of parchment in half, he scribbled:

_

For my dearest Lily 

_

From,  
Your Secret Admirer

"Hmm, bit trite, don't you think? Why not sign your name instead?" came a gruff voice from behind him.

Claira whirled around to see Professor Falcor standing there with his arms crossed and a wide, knowing grin on his face.

Severus seemed unperturbed by his presence. "And be disowned by my House? Made a mockery of by the entire school? I think not."

"There is no shame in courting a pretty girl, Severus."

"There is when that pretty girl happens to be a Gryffindor and I am a Slytherin," Severus corrected.

"Is that so? Then perhaps it is time to break a few of the old Hogwarts traditions and replace them with new ones. It is Valentine's Day. Severus, present the chocolates to her yourself. The others will be envious of your courage." His lips curved into a smirk. "You might even get a kiss in return for your valor."

Severus snorted. "That, I doubt."

He attached the note and slipped the box into his robe pocket.

"Very well, have it your way," the Professor enounced. "But don't be surprised if the outcome is not what you had wanted."

After whisking his cauldron to the sink, Severus tucked his books under his arm and moved towards the door. "I'll take my chances."

Claira followed him out of the laboratory and down several winding tunnels. When they reached the dungeon classroom, Severus paused to peer inside. There were a few other students already seated and involved in private conversations. Satisfied that their attentions were occupied for the moment, he entered the room like a wisp of smoke, careful not to disturb the calm.

Claira watched as he brushed his hip up against a nearby table, while at the same time lifting the box of chocolates out of his pocket. He placed it on the adjoining stool, and then fled the classroom.

Outside, he stood with his back to the wall, an air of calm falling over his flushed face. He watched as the other students straddled in, casting them all a look of indifference, save one girl. She had long, fiery hair, big green eyes and a petite body that moved through the crowd with ease. His posture stiffened as she passed and his eager eyes followed her to the very stool he had placed the chocolates on.

It took her a moment to discover them but, when she did, her cheeks pinked and she smiled. She then opened the box and, after a quick examination for possible pranks, popped a chocolate heart into her mouth. Her eyes closed at its sweet taste. A group of friends soon gathered around her, whispering and giggling in speculation as to who had given her the gift.

After a moment or two, a boy with untidy black hair and dark-rimmed glasses pushed his way through the small crowd.

"What's all the chatter about?" he asked.

The girl, whom Claira could only assume was Lily, looked up at him and grinned. "Oh, I think you know."

She devoured another chocolate heart and blushed. "Thank you, James. They really are delicious."

His eyes fell to the box in her hands. "Huh?"

"These chocolates... you did give them to me, didn't you?" Her long lashes rose to reveal the sudden uncertainty in her emerald eyes.

His ears reddened at her question. His gaze moved from the chocolates to her face, then to the small crowd of expectant onlookers and back again to her face. "Yes - yes, of course! Made 'em myself. Do you like them?"

He cast a side-glance at the group of ogling girls. No one exposed his lie.

"I do, very much. Thank you!" She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek.

Claira clamped her hand over her mouth and darted her eyes at Severus. He stood in the doorway with his shoulders slumped forward and eyes glued to the girl who had just given her kiss to the wrong admirer. But soon his face twisted into anger, and his chest inflated to twice its size. One hand balled into a white-knuckle fist at his side, while the other reached for the wand in his pocket. In a flash, he had it out and pointed at the boy.

Just as he was about to hurl a hex, another dark-haired boy appeared.

"Expelliarmus!"

The wand flew out of Severus's hand, bounced off the archway and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The boy then grabbed the front of Severus's robes and slammed his feeble body against the wall.

Claira knew those gray, roguish eyes; she would recognize them anywhere. It was Sirius Black!

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, _Snivellus_."

Severus struggled to free himself but the other boy was stronger, taller and more physically developed. Nevertheless, he thrashed his arms out and wiggled his body, until his robes tore down the center.

Sirius's eyes dropped to a deep, tumid cut on Severus's collarbone. "What happened, _Snivellus_? Fall off your broom again?"

There was laughter as a crowd of students gathered around them.

"No! Let go of me! Just wait until I have my wand," Severus spat.

Lily and James approached from behind. Sirius glanced back at his friend and grinned. "You know what I think, James? I think _Snivellus_ here gave Lily those chocolates."

A look of horror passed over Severus's pallid face.

James shrugged his shoulders and threw a haughty smirk at Lily.

Lily's mouth fell open as she stared to and fro between the boys.

"Is that true, Severus?" she asked in a soft, compassionate tone.

Severus eyed the crowd. He then looked at Lily and barred his teeth. "Don't insult me, Mudblood. I wouldn't waste my time on filth."

Sirius twisted Severus's robes tighter around his fist and gave him another hard shove against the wall. "Liar! I've seen the way you stare at her when she walks by. Why, I'd even say your legs turn to jelly at the sight of her."

A wicked smirk crossed his lips, as he lowered his wand to Severus's legs. "Lentesco Membrum!"

It was the jelly-legs jinx. Severus's limbs began to wobble and jiggle out of control. Sirius released him and he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

The crowd exploded with laughter; even his fellow Slytherins chimed in. It was obvious that he was not well liked. It made Claira wonder if he had any friends at all.

While Sirius was crowing, Severus crawled on his hands and elbows to his wand. Once it was in his hand, he sat up and pointed it at Black. His brow creased in fury and his pupils dilated to reveal the black devilry in his eyes.

"Furor Exanimis!"

A gray wisp of smoke rose from the tip of his wand and took the shape of a grisly hand, with long, crooked fingers and sharp fingernails. It flew like a phantom at Sirius and plunged straight into his open mouth. Then, it vanished.

The tunnel fell silent, pure terror struck across the faces of those who watched Sirius drop to his knees and clutch at his throat. He could not breathe; the hand had stolen the air from his lungs. His face began to turn purple and he clawed at his neck in desperation.

Just then, a flash of white light hit his chest. He croaked like a frog before inhaling and exhaling large breaths of air. Out of nowhere, a strong hand, made of flesh and bone, grabbed his arm and helped him to stand.

"What the devil is going on here?" Professor Falcor barked, throwing a counter curse at Severus's legs. "I want answers, now!"

The other students stared and pointed at Severus, while Lily explained the events that had transpired. Severus leapt to his feet and scowled at his accusers. They backed away from him as if he were plagued with a disease.

When she finished, the Professor cast his eyes at Severus and frowned. "I see... All of you, inside the classroom, this instant."

He tugged the back of Severus's robes as he made to enter through the door. "Not you! Potter, escort Mr. Black to the infirmary. Miss Evans, please mind the class while I speak with Mr. Snape."

"Yes, sir." They all spoke in unison.

After the others departed, Professor Falcor turned to Severus and surveyed him with a grimace. "Where did you learn that curse?"

Severus stared at the floor. "I don't know."

"Try again."

"A book."

The Professor's eyes narrowed. "And where did you find this book?"

"The library."

"I am not in the mood for games, Severus."

Severus lifted his gaze and then quickly lowered it again. "My father's study."

"What did I tell you about fiddling with Dark Magic? It is not only dangerous to the well-being of others but it is also dangerous to you, as it will affect the sanity of your own mind." He looked grave. "You almost killed someone today."

"It was self-defense."

"Was it? Do not mistake humiliation for a life-threatening experience. The only thing in danger here was your pride. So, another student bested you? Big deal. There will be many others, I assure you."

Severus scowled and glared at his shoes.

"You do realize I shall have to punish you?" His tone softened to one of regret.

Severus nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I will speak with the Headmaster and attempt to dissuade him from expelling you. This is the last time, Severus. Do you understand me? I can sympathize with your anger and frustration, but I will not tolerate the use of Dark Magic on another student." He placed his hand on Severus's shoulder. "That being said, I think you should change into another set of robes before returning to class."

As Severus turned to walk away, the Professor's palm slid off his shoulder and the split in his robes parted to reveal the large cut on his collarbone. Narrowing his eyes, Professor Falcor grabbed Severus's arm and held him back.

He peeled the remainder of the fabric aside to examine the wound. "What happened here?"

Severus shrugged out of his grip. "I fell off my broom - its nothing."

"Do not presume to think me ignorant of such matters, Severus. I know from my own experience and studies that this cut was caused by a cleaver hex... did you happen to find that in your father's study as well?"

Severus froze, his eyes widening at the insinuation. "I said it is nothing."

Professor Falcor tried to approach him but Severus backed away. "Severus, please. I cannot help you unless you tell me the truth."

"I told you the truth," he stammered. "I fell off my broom during the holidays - there is nothing else to tell. Leave me alone."

He stumbled backwards into the wall. Then, ducking under the Professor's arm, he fled down the tunnel.

Claira chased after him.

He was light and fast on his feet; a skill no doubt adopted from years of running and hiding from the wrath of his father. As he rounded the third corner, another boy emerged from the shadows and swooped in front of him. Severus faltered in his steps and tumbled to the floor. The older boy, possibly in his seventh year, stared down at him and grinned.

"Snape, is it? I saw what you did earlier. Quite impressive. Tell me, wherever did you learn that quaint little charm?"

He offered him a hand to stand, but Severus ignored it and clamored to his feet. "None of your business, Wilkes."

"None of my business, you say? I'd mind that attitude, if I were you. It would seem you have gotten yourself into enough trouble for one morning."

Severus sneered at him, despite the boy's rank as a Slytherin prefect. "What's one more detention if a severing hex to your prick will get you out of my face?"

Claira buried her face in her hands and shook her head.

"You were warned." Before Severus could grab his wand, the boy wrapped his hand around Severus neck and lifted him up off the ground. His arm was glowing bright red with wandless magic; it was a miraculous feat for one of his age.

After a moment, the boy released him to the floor and chuckled. Severus massaged his throat and stared up at him, not in anger, but in awe.

"Remarkable, don't you think? There is no limit to the power you can possess with the right tuition... I can see you are curious. Lucky for you, Snape, I happen to like you. I have seen your potential, and I think the Dark Lord would be pleased with your unique talents. He is currently recruiting young wizards and witches alike, to train for the revolution. If you are tired of learning these useless parlor tricks, then meet me at the front gates at midnight - "

Approaching footsteps disrupted his speech. He glanced around.

"Come alone," he added, before adjusting his badge and whisking off down the tunnel.

Severus plucked himself up off the floor and walked in the opposite direction of the footsteps. Along the way to his dormitory, he stared down at his arm and flexed his fingers. Claira could see the hunger in his eyes; she could almost feel the yearning for power in his heart.

She stopped following him as he faded away into the spinning darkness. Claira did not need to question if he had went to the gates that night... she already knew that he had.

The pensieve did not grant her enough time to sort out her thoughts; it spat her straight into the pit of his next memory.

Claira stood in the kitchen of a grand manor house. Before, in the dark hallway and dim study, she could only guess the size of Severus's childhood home, if one indeed could use the term 'home' to describe a building of such enormous proportions. Now she saw just how sumptuous a house it was. Gold and silver trimmings decorated most pieces of furniture and gave hint to the extent of his parent's wealth. Marble floors, mahogany cabinets, and crystal dishes - all these items had been chosen, no doubt, to flaunt their wealth. If only they could have lavished the same care and money on Severus's garments and playthings.

Adjoining the kitchen was a large breakfast room. In it, at a circular table, sat a sixteen-year-old Severus, his father and a small, blonde hair boy about five years of age. The boy looked awkward amongst a family of dark-eyed brunettes. Claira noticed his father scrutinize him from over that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.

Severus's mother stood near a window and sipped on her tea, while watching the sun rise above the marsh.

To an unwitting eye, the family looked normal, happy and balanced.

Aside from the scraping of forks and occasional rustle of the newspaper, the room was quiet. That is, until the small boy reached for the pitcher of milk and tipped it over by mistake.

SPLASH!

The milk poured out onto the table, over the plates and into his father's lap.

The man leapt to his feet, knocking the chair backwards as he stood. "Bloody hell!"

He shoved his fist into his pocket and snatched out his wand, and performed a cleaning spell on his robes. After he was finished, he placed his palms on the dry edges of the table and leaned forward. He spoke in a low, dangerous tone.

"Which one of you did this? Speak up! It was you, wasn't it?" He leered at the small, blonde hair boy.

The boy was too terrified to answer the question. He looked to his mother with pleading eyes. She stood in the corner with her hands over her mouth, but did not dare interfere with his punishment. His tiny body trembled in the man's cold, dark shadow.

Severus's face whitened as he watched his father's large, rigid hand reach out for his brother. His stony eyes locked onto the small boy's tear-filled eyes and they shared a moment of mutual fear, and understanding.

As his father's fingers entwined and tightened around his brother's robe, Severus rose from his chair. He stood tall, despite his quivering limbs, and announced, "No, father. I did it. I spilt the pitcher."

The father slowly turned his murderous eyes on Severus. He stared at him in gut-wrenching silence, as if contemplating the truth of his words. Then, like a crack of lightning, he released the small boy and swung his arm around with a force that defied reasoning. The back of his hand made fierce contact with Severus's face, and Severus toppled over his chair onto the floor.

His mother took that opportunity to pull the small boy away from the table and into the comfort of her arms. She hugged him close to her breasts, but her eyes remained devoid of feeling as she stared down at her other son.

Hunched over, Severus touched his fingers to his swollen cheek. He winced in pain.

Stuffing his hand into his robes, the loathsome man snatched out a handkerchief and wiped the saliva off his skin. "Clean this mess up."

It took Severus a moment to recover from the blow before pulling himself up to stand. He grabbed a cloth from the table, as he was not allowed to use magic out of school, and began to wipe up the milk.

His father slapped it out of his hand.

There was no emotion in his voice, no sign of feeling in his steel eyes when he told Severus, "Not with a cloth - with your tongue. That will teach you to give me a prompt answer when I speak to you. Now, clean it."

Severus's face burned with humiliation. His chest began to rise and fall in heavy, angry breaths as he stared down at the large puddle of milk on the floor. He was a boy on the verge of manhood, torn between a sense of obedience and self-respect. There comes a time in every young boy's life when he must choose to be his own man, decide who he is and follow his own path.

His eyes brimmed with defiance. "No."

"What did you say?" his father growled. "What did you say to me, boy?"

Claira could almost hear Severus's bones rattle, but he held his stance. "I said, no. I won't do it."

"How dare you talk back to me?" He grabbed Severus by the back of his hair and shoved him down to the floor, forcing his nose within inches from the pool of milk. "Clean it!"

Severus's eyes blazed with fury and, in that moment, he claimed manhood.

Drawing his knee up, he pushed himself up off the floor with his leg and whirled around to punch his father in the mouth with all his might.

His father stumbled backwards and landed with his back on the table, his robes besmirched with food.

Severus, for the first time since the memories began, smiled.

It did not last long.

His father was on his feet and on top of Severus before he could react.

Claira backed away into a corner and covered her eyes with her trembling hands, too frightened to watch. But she heard the violent shuffling of bodies and the cracking sound of fists connecting with flesh, and bone, and the yells of anger, and the cries of agony.

Then it stopped.

Claira opened her eyes and saw Severus down on his hands and knees above the puddle of milk, his eyelids nearly swollen shut and blood seeping from his broken nose. His father had his wand out and pointed at the back of Severus's head. Its tip glowed a bright, deadly green.

"I have lost my patience with you, boy!" the man said, in a hoarse voice. "I shall _not_ tell you again! Clean up this bloody mess! If you refuse me again, I shall not hesitate to throw your bloody carcass out into the swamp, for the grindylows to feast upon."

Severus, struggling to catch his breath, bowed his head in defeat. He was no match for his father. Scrunching his face up in disgust, he lowered his face to the floor and flicked his tongue out at the milk.

Although his eyes threatened to cry, he did not allow a single tear to escape from his dark lashes.

Claira curled into a ball, buried her hands in her hair and sobbed against her knees. She did not know how much more she could endure of this.

She continued to weep as the cold, relentless darkness lifted her body and spiraled her towards his next memory.

When her feet touched ground, Claira wiped the watery blur from her eyes and peered around a dark, dusty tower. She knew this place. It was the vacant tower Severus used when he wanted to escape his troubles. She glanced at the window and saw his youthful form climbing out onto the stone platform.

She followed and stood beside him beneath the twinkling stars. He had not aged more than a year, but his frigid eyes showed a grown man trapped inside a boy's body. His shoulders were broad but thin and his chest showed a hint of muscle beneath his robes; however, his lean profile made him look more skeletal than fit.

He stared over the lake and past the mountains, the wind winnowing his hair so that it cloaked his sallow cheeks. In a slow, timid manner, he stepped up onto the ledge. Leaning forward, he lowered his eyes to the ground, to the solid, snowy earth. His robes ruffled in the breeze and his body began to sway, as if he were toying with the idea of flying... or maybe falling.

The stony expression on his face was difficult to read.

Claira backed away, frightened he might decide to jump and, by doing so, drag her down with him; that was one memory she did not care to ever experience. She had always been afraid to fly. It was not so much the fear of flying but, rather, the fear of plummeting to her death that kept her off a broom.

After several minutes of heavy breathing and rocking back and forth, Severus let out a troublesome groan, and climbed down from the ledge.

"Aw, what a shame," said a male voice, dripping with malice. "You would have done the world a favor."

Claira whirled around to see a gang of four boys standing only a few feet away. Sirius had his wand in his hand, poised for an attack. Beside him, James also had his wand out and pointed at Severus's back. A seventeen-year-old Remus stood near the window with a look of uncertainty on his face, his shiny prefect badge reflecting the ghostly light of the half moon. The fourth boy was unfamiliar. He was short and plump, and he was rubbing his hands together like a rat leering at a sliver of cheese. His eyes were on James and Sirius.

Severus did not turn around. The expression on his face told Claira that he knew the voice and what trouble it brought. His hand plunged into his pocket. But it was too late. Sirius had cast a floating charm on his body and suspended him sideways over the ledge.

James smirked. "Lily hates you, you know. She thinks you're an ugly git. She told me so last night, just after we left the Astronomy Tower. God, she is really hot, that one. But it was colder than Merlin's balls up there without our robes. Come to think of it, she never did find her knickers... must've lost them somewhere between the wall of star charts and the floor. Girls can be so neglectful when they're randy. But you wouldn't know anything about that would you, _Snivellus_? I bet you never even seen a tit, except your mother's!"

Sirius and James shared a laugh. The plump boy looked about in panic, as if he had never seen one either. Remus, on the other hand, frowned at James's confession of sex with Lily. He shook his head and muttered something against the wind.

Severus put up a violent struggle, spitting swearwords and threats at the boys. His fingers thrust into the fold of his robes for his wand, but the fact that he was hanging at a slant caused the wand to slip out of his pocket and spiral towards the thick blanket of snow below. His eyes widened in terror as he stared down at the grounds.

"The truth is, _Snivellus_, everyone hates you," Sirius spat. "So, why don't you just put us all out of our misery and snuff it."

He flicked his wand and made Severus's body tilt upside down. Then he spun him around in circles until Severus cried out for him to stop. His face had turned a deep purple and his eyes were glossed over from dizziness.

Remus cleared his throat and stepped forward. "I think that is enough, Sirius. You've made your point. Now, put him down before we get caught."

"Put him down, you say? Well, all right." Sirius flashed a wicked smile and lowered his wand.

Severus's body flipped over once more before it dropped out of view.

James gasped and grabbed Sirius's arm. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry. I've got him." He leaned over the ledge and cast another floating charm. "You see? I was just giving _Snivellus _a little flying lesson... and something to consider in future."

James shivered. "Well, just - just put him down, all right?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders and lifted Severus back up, and over the ledge. He then removed the charm so that Severus fell onto the stone platform with a heavy thud. "There, happy?"

Severus scrambled to his feet, trembling. "You'll... you'll pay for that, Black."

Sirius snorted. "You are nothing without your wand, _Snivellus_... Come on, mates, let's go nick a bottle of Firewhisky from the kitchen before Filch makes his rounds."

The others did not reply; they were too busy staring at the tall, dark silhouette that stood in the window.

"Would any of you care to explain why you are all out after hours, and also in a restricted section of the castle?" growled Professor Falcor.

Sirius tucked his wand behind his back. "Professor, sir. We were just... that is, Remus was out on patrol - being _prefect_ and all - and he heard a strange noise coming from the tower."

James nodded his head. "Yeah, and he asked us to assist him in case there might be trouble. That's when we found Severus standing out here on the ledge. We were just trying to help him down. Right, Sirius?"

"That's right," Sirius grinned. "We were just helping him _down_."

Professor Falcor stepped out onto the platform and eyed each one in turn. "Is that correct, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus nodded. Then, bowed his head.

"Severus?"

Severus had his back turned: his black eyes narrowed as he cast his gaze over the snow in search of his wand. He did not respond.

The Professor stared at him for a moment and then turned his attention back to the other boys. "Honorable as you claim your actions to be, you were still out after curfew. Fifty points shall be deducted apiece. You will also serve detention with Mr. Filch, whom I plan to inform of your conspiracy to steal liquor from the school kitchen - yes, I heard you, Mr. Black. Now, get back to your dormitory before I am forced to involve the Headmaster."

The four boys climbed through the window and shuffled out of the tower.

Turning his face to the side, Professor Falcor raised his arm and coughed into his sleeve. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and coughed another time, and then gave one final deep-throated cough into the cloth that sounded like a clap of thunder.

Claira stared at the dark rings around his eyes. Her brow formed a sharp ridge. She moved closer to inspect the dilation of his pupils but, as she neared him, he stepped away to stand beside Severus.

They both stared down at the snow. "What are we looking for?"

"My wand," Severus grumbled.

"I see." He withdrew his wand and pointed it at the grounds. "Accio wand."

The wand unearthed from a heap of snow and soared up the tower, and into his hand. He gave it to Severus.

Severus pocketed the wand.

"I have noticed a change in you, Severus," the Professor said. "You have distanced yourself from me, your House and your potions studies. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

The professor allowed a moment of silence to pass between them before he spoke again. "You have been my pupil for six years, yet you still do not trust me. But, regardless of your silence, I have never stopped wanting to help you. You have a special gift, Severus. It would be a shame to allow outside interferences to distract you from your true talents."

Severus ignored his comments and turned his back towards him. The Professor sighed. "I had hoped you would continue with your experiments and, if possible, enter one of them in next year's Potions Competition. I hear the Ministry is offering a full scholarship to any university that the winner chooses. You could travel the world, meet new people and perhaps even establish a career as an alchemist."

"How can you be so certain that I will win?" Severus folded his arms and watched as the wind taunted the branches of the whomping willow. "There will be hundreds of entries."

"I have been monitoring your progression in potions since you first arrived at Hogwarts. Soon, you will reach a master's level of skill. Do you think any of those other students match your talent? I have taught thousands during my years as a Professor; I can assure you, the answer is no." He threaded his fingers through his scraggly beard and scratched his chin. "I thought maybe you could enter that invisibility draught you've been concocting. I realize it is not complete but, with my assistance, we could have it ready in time for the competition. What do you think?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "I think you are wrong."

"Fine. You are entitled to your opinion," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "After you are done drowning in your pool of self-pity, return to your dormitory. In the morning, you may report to Mr. Filch for further instructions on your detention. I cannot allow you to break curfew without punishment." He snatched out his handkerchief and coughed into it. "I had thought better of you, Mr. Snape. I had hoped you would rise above the multitude of challenges you face in your life and perhaps make something of yourself. Apparently, I was wrong."

He turned to leave.

"You did not allow me to finish," Severus called behind him, his face struggling to suppress his emotions. "I think you are wrong... but I will enter the competition, if it pleases you."

The Professor whirled about. "No, you will do it to please yourself - else do not do it at all. I am not here to seek favors from you. What I am seeking is to create the opportunity for you to succeed. In that sense, I shall provide you with the tools and you will use them to the best of your ability. Is that clear?"

"Quite clear."

He grinned. "I knew you had some spirit left in you. Right! I think we should begin straight away. Meet me in the laboratory after dinner tomorrow. There is much to be done!"

The slightest of smiles passed over Severus's lips at the sight of the Professor's excitement. "Does this mean I am free of detention?"

"Ah no," he frowned. "But perhaps I can arrange something with Mr. Filch that will not conflict with your work."

Severus pulled a face as he made for the window. Walking beside him, Professor Falcor placed his hand on Severus's opposite shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Come now, the old squib can't be that bad?"

Severus snorted, "You have no idea."

Claira stared at the small, irregular stigmas on the back of the Professors neck as the two melted into the darkness. Her eyes closed in foreboding. She already knew what the coming memory would bring.

In the next flash of light, she was standing in Professor Falcor's laboratory. Severus was alone, bent over a long scroll and a rack of steamy glass vials. To his left was a bubbling cauldron. To his right, were strange apparatuses used for weighing and measuring temperatures.

If Claira's prognosis of the Professor's health was correct, it was approximately six months later.

Severus had his nose to the parchment, filling out his application for the Potions Competition. When the door creaked open, he glanced at the hourglass but he did not turn to see who was standing in the doorway. He must have assumed it was Professor Falcor, for he lowered his voice to mimic his teacher's and with a cheeky grin said, "_You, sir, are precisely two hours late... _"

Claira thought they must now be on very amicable terms indeed for Severus to feel he was able to impersonate his professor in such a manner. Severus continued in his natural tone, "No matter. Come see. I've finished it."

He stood and stirred the contents of the cauldron with a long, wooden ladle. "I had made a slight miscalculation with the dragon's blood last night. But, in doing so, I discovered that the increase of nucleic acids eliminated cell mutation, thus enabling the skin to transpose without damaging the internal organs... Well? Say something then!"

He spun around to see that it was Dumbledore who had entered the chamber. His lurid face reflected a deep sadness and his eyes were splotched with unshed tears.

Severus did not seem to take notice. He turned back to the cauldron and continued to stir. "My apologies, Headmaster. I thought you were Professor Falcor."

"That is... quite all right." Dumbledore said in a near whisper. He walked further into the room and stood beneath the glow of a hanging torchlight, and watched him for a short time. "You know, Severus, you remind me very much of Jonathan at your age. He used to lock himself away in this laboratory for hours, brewing potions and avoiding social gatherings when at all possible."

"Used to?" Severus asked, peering close at the murky liquid, then stirring it again. "I believe he still does."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and smiled. "Indeed, he enjoyed his work very much; both with potions and as a professor. I do not know if you ever realized this, Severus, but Jonathan took great pride in his students. He was most especially proud of you, I think. He would often praise you to the other professors; similar to the way a father would praise his son. I believe that is how he thought of you."

Severus slowed his hand to a halt. His brow furrowed. "You speak of him as if he were - were something of the past."

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and fingers.

The silence was almost deafening. Severus slowly turned to face him, his face ashen, as if he half expected the terrible truth he was about to hear.

Dumbledore moved his lips, but nothing came out. It appeared he was having great difficulty finding the right words. Then he said, "Severus, Jonathan has gone."

"What do you mean _gone_?" exclaimed Severus, his eyes wide and the hand holding the ladle beginning to tremble. "We had an appointment to test the potion tonight. When can I expect him back?"

Dumbledore blinked a few times, then he said, "No, Severus. What I meant is, Jonathan has died. He passed away in his bedchambers this afternoon."

The room fell silent again.

Dumbledore waited a moment for the words to sink in before he continued, a tear now falling from his blue eyes. "I know this is difficult for you. You must understand how difficult this is for me - for all of us. However, I wanted to be the one to tell you before the rumors had time to manifest..."

Severus stiffened and turned, then stared down at the streaks of blood swirling in his cauldron. "I... do not understand."

"Professor Falcor was very ill. I know what you are thinking - yes, he did teach his lessons this morning. He kept his failing health hidden to the last. I believe he masked his pain and the more apparent symptoms with various potions. His privacy had always been one of choice."

Claira could see the anger building inside of Severus; his nostrils were flaring and his chest had begun to heave with every forced breath.

"Why did he not tell me? We could have worked on a cure, instead of this rubbish!" He flung the ladle aside and slammed his palms down on the table, his head bowed so that his hair blanketed his face.

"Jonathan was born with a deformed lung. When he was a child, he developed a disease known to our world as Ramex Morbus or, in more modern terms, a rare form of lung cancer. There is no cure for it. Severus, nothing could have been done to save him."

Severus's breathing quickened and his eyes, wild and frantic, darted this way and that, as he tried to make sense of what he was being told.

Dumbledore continued softly. "Do not blame yourself, nor him for keeping it from you. I imagine he did not want to be treated or looked at any differently, and rightly so."

Severus's body began to shake. He looked about him as if looking for a means of escape and then, finding none, he exploded. "Then this has all been for nothing! The lessons, the potion, the competition - EVERYTHING!"

He gripped the edge of the table and overturned it, which sent the cauldron and vials crashing to the floor. The potion polluted the chamber, seeping through the cracks and emitting vapors as it splashed against the opposite wall. Severus then attacked the shelves; he smashed everything he could get his hands on, including a large jar of dead cockroaches.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore pleaded above the noise. "Destroying Jonathan's things is not the way to honor his memory."

"Honor?" Severus growled. "How do you honor a man who was a bloody coward and a liar? He promised me an opportunity to succeed, to leave this hellish nightmare of a life and start anew. Now he is dead. Where, then, is the honor in his hypocrisy? He deserves nothing."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "Jonathan was a man of his word! He has already given you the opportunity to succeed: by filling your mind with knowledge. With his teachings, he gave you the greatest gift one person can give to another, which is an education that enables you to utilize your talents to their fullest. I believe you told me the potion is now complete? What else is left to do but enter it into the competition?"

He flicked his wand at the chaos Severus created and put everything back to right.

"Know this, Severus," Dumbledore then continued. "Jonathan's life expectancy ended four months ago. He set aside death and suffered greatly to see that his promise to you was fulfilled; the least you can do is follow through with yours. Submit the application. By doing so, you will have passed his legacy on to the world and, in like manner, expressed your gratitude."

Severus stood trembling, his eyelids swollen with stifled tears. His hand rubbed his forearm, as if to conceal a deeper concern about the Professor's passing. "You do not understand. I don't think I can do it alone."

"You are not alone. I am here," Dumbledore told him. "And, Professor Falcor will always be with you in your memory, and in your heart."

Severus walked on unsteady feet to the door, his shoulders slumped and his eyes distant from reality. Before he exited the chamber, he turned to Dumbledore and choked, "We shall see."

The laboratory was then flooded with darkness.

Claira closed her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She now understood the reasons why Severus had turned to the Dark Arts; he had known nothing but pain and anger in his youth. The only source of light that he held dear to him had extinguished with the passing of his Professor. Dumbledore was a wise, kind and sincere wizard, but he was also a very busy man. No doubt he would have helped Severus, if he had taken the time to ask for it; however, Dumbledore should have known that Severus would never have lowered his guard enough to risk being thought of as weak. He had to be strong to survive.

When Claira opened her eyes again, she was standing outside the castle on the stone walkway near the main entrance and the Great Hall. It was dark, cold and quiet. But inside the Hall, Claira noticed as she peered through the window, was a bright celebration. Students were dancing to loud thumping music while teachers stood by and sipped merrily from their goblets. The decorations on the walls and tables suggested that it was the end of the year graduation feast.

A soft shuffle behind Claira pulled her gaze to a tall, imposing young man. He was dressed in finely tailored black robes that exhibited a thin yet impressive form. Severus's hair now skimmed his shoulders and his posture was straight, and proud. What a difference that summer had made! He had adopted a peculiar attractiveness, the very same that Claira found appealing in his adulthood. His large, hooked nose was his weakest feature, but his piercing black eyes and strong jaw distracted enough attention to make him handsome.

He was pacing in circles, casting an occasional glance into the Great Hall and then checking his pocket watch. There was something troublesome in his expression, as if he were in a fierce battle with his thoughts. In the distance, the bell chimed to warn of the nearing hour. Severus stopped to look at the entrance gates. He stared at them for a moment, and then he began to pace again.

Now muttering to himself in the deep baritone he had also developed during his final year of school, Severus clenched his fists and began to pound the stone with his sizeable leather boots. His eyes reflected deep turmoil.

"Severus?" came a soft, angelic voice.

Severus froze in his steps and, without turning around, said, "Lily?"

Claira spun about and watched as a young woman in a scarlet gown approached. She was slender and elegant with long, flaming red hair, and sparkling green eyes. The glow of her skin resembled that of a goddess. Claira blushed at the sight of her. Jealousy prickled her insides at the idea that Severus held this girl in so high of an honor.

Staring at the girl's glorified figure, she realized that his memory of Lily was much more flattering than the one he held of _her_. Claira's heart sank in her chest. Was this girl the exaggerated image of a schoolboy fantasy, or was she a vision of love?

"Dumbledore was asking for you," Lily told him, her rosy lips curving into a perfect smile. "What are you doing out here?"

Severus whirled around on his heel. When his eyes met hers, they widened and then dropped to adore the rest of her enchanting form. "Thinking."

"About tomorrow? So am I." She frowned and cast her eyes out over the lake. "It seems like only yesterday we first arrived here on the train. Now, we will all leave on it in the morning, never to return."

Severus nodded and inched closer, as if she were magnetic.

Lily looked at him and smiled. "I heard you won a scholarship. Congratulations! You are lucky, you know. The rest of us will have to rely on our N.E.W.T.s and student grants to get into a decent university."

Severus nodded again, still staring at her in disbelief. It was clear from his reaction that whoever, or whatever, it was he was waiting for was not Lily. He seemed surprised she had left the celebration and had stepped outside. Severus also appeared perplexed by her close proximity. He was at a loss for words.

"Enough of that, I suppose." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to face him. "I noticed you had not asked a girl to dance tonight. Is there any particular reason why?"

Drawing in a deep breath of courage, Severus leaned forward and murmured, "Yes, you were preoccupied."

"Well," she grinned. "I'm not now, am I?"

Lily then stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. He took her other hand in his palm, placed his trembling one on her hip and led her into a slow waltz. They danced to the muffled music in the background; however, it was impossible to decipher the song and tempo through the thick glass windows. Severus's feet were clumsy and uncertain at first, but they soon gained confidence and achieved a controlled rhythm.

His eyes closed in ignorant bliss, unaware that Lily was struggling to keep a friendly distance between them.

He inhaled the fragrance of her hair. Then, he nudged his nose further down to smell the perfume on her neck. She flinched at his sudden closeness but he did not appear to notice. His eyes were aglow with eagerness, his body pressing forward in response to its curious arousal.

He caressed the surface of her ear with his dry lips and whispered, "How I have longed for this moment, to touch you this way. You are so beautiful."

Her eyes widened in shock as he dragged his now moistened lips across her cheek and smothered her mouth with a wet, sloppy kiss; his inexperienced tongue lashed out this way and that, licking everything it came in contact with, including her nose.

She squealed and pushed him away, wiping his saliva off her mouth with her silk sleeve. "What are you doing?"

He looked at her in panic; the redness of his cheeks against the sallow skin of his face resembled the makeup of a clown. "I... was kissing you."

"What in the world possessed you to do that?" she asked, still rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

"I don't know," he stammered. "I thought you wanted it."

She was frantic. "No, I didn't!"

Then her voice calmed when she saw his expression and realized that she was embarrassing him. "Listen, Severus, I didn't mean to mislead you. I'm sorry, but I just don't think of you in that way. You see, I'm in love with James."

Severus winced at her words. The glint in his eyes fizzled away. "Then what the devil are you doing out here with me?"

"I saw you through the window. You were out here all alone. I felt, I wanted to - "

His features hardened, taking on his signature stone expression; however, his eyes were glaring with rage. "You pity me, is that it?"

"No, Severus - I didn't mean it like that."

She moved toward him.

He backed away.

"Don't touch me, Mudblood!" he growled. "Go back to that idiot Potter and dance till your filthy heart's content. Marry the bastard for all I care! But you will regret it. Mark my word."

Before Lily could respond, Severus spun on his heel and made a dash for the entrance gates. Claira fought to keep up, panting as her feet hammered the ground behind him. He stopped in a small clearing outside of the castle's boundaries and checked his pocket watch.

"DAMN!" he barked, his face twisting into one of dread.

Claira stumbled through the gates and ran towards him as he raised his wand above his head. She heard a loud crack, and then a brilliant flash of light blinded her eyes.

The pensieve had made a swift transition into the next memory, tossing her amidst a dense thicket of trees. The moonlight peaked between the large clusters of leaves, casting a haunting glow over the surrounding forest.

Just ahead of her, Claira heard the snapping of branches, and caught a glimpse of Severus's lanky silhouette moving through the brushwood towards a ring of burning torches. He was still clad in his graduation robes, which told her that this memory must have happened that same night. She followed him to the outskirts of the forest and watched as he paused to dust off his garments. He then hurried towards a small group of cloaked figures, which had formed a ceremonial type circle around a tall, sinister man and two younger boys; they looked to be about the same age as Severus. They were knelt on one knee, heads bowed and clutching their forearms.

As Severus approached the coterie of dark wizards and witches, one of them grabbed him by the front of his robes, drew him within inches of his masked face, and hissed, "You fool! I told you not to be late."

A few strands of blonde hair slipped out from beneath his hood as he tossed Severus into the center of the ring.

Severus fell to his knees before the sinister man, whose face bore a distinct deformation caused by the excessive misuse of Dark magic, and bowed his head. His shoulders were trembling. "Forgive me, my Lord."

The tall, frightening wizard dismissed the other two boys with the wave of his hand and began to circle Severus, peering down at him through cold, fathomless eyes. After a few rounds, he spoke. "Are you prepared to serve your master?"

"Yes, my Lord."

He folded his arms behind his back, slowed his pace and continued, "Are you willing to pledge allegiance to the cause; to obey my every command, regardless of the cost? Tell me, are you ready to surrender your life to the Knights of Walpurgis?"

Severus lifted his head and said, without hesitation, "Yes, my Lord."

"Then hold out your arm," he ordered.

He stopped in front of Severus, his cloak thrashing against the wind, and withdrew his wand. Severus unbuttoned his cuff and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow. He then lifted his arm, exposing his wrist to the night sky. After a moment of silence, the wizard touched the tip of his wand to Severus's forearm and spoke the incantation, which branded his skin with the putrid image of a human skull with a serpent for a tongue.

Severus cried out in agony and clamped his hand over his burning flesh.

The evil wizard curled his lip in disgust and waited for Severus to recover. He then said, in a cold, heartless tone, "Just as you have taken your oath as my loyal servant, so shall you accept punishment for your misdeed."

Severus glanced up at him in confusion and in return received a powerful, open-handed slap across his cheek. Saliva flew from his mouth at the blow and the sharp fingernail scratches left by the wizard's hand began to bleed down the side of his nose. The others snickered in delight.

"NEVER ARRIVE LATE AGAIN! FROM NOW UNTIL YOUR DEATH - NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY ORDERS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Severus, with his body quivering, nodded his head, fear pooling behind his black eyes. In the next moment, there was a flash of light and Severus toppled over screaming. He jerked and twitched on the ground, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his fingers clawed at his scalp. The world blurred and its sounds were replaced with an ear-piercing screech. Claira covered her ears and crouched into a ball.

The sadistic wizard lowered his wand.

Severus stilled and panted against the damp grass. He slowly sat up after a time and bowed, once again, before the Dark Lord.

"Now, stand."

Severus struggled to his feet and stood.

"Stand," the wizard repeated, "and take your privileged place amongst my most trusted followers. Lucius, make room for your fellow knight. We now have a Potions master to complete our fold."

The others looked stunned and passed secret, wary glances at each other, but they did not dare speak their thoughts. The two new Death Eaters Claira had seen earlier stood off to the side and glared at Severus with utter loathing.

Severus wobbled to the space the band of accomplished followers had created for him and attempted to wipe his cheek clean with his knuckles. Instead, the blood smeared across his skin like a watery mudslide. Staring at the others, he grinned with pride and reached into a hidden pocket sewn inside his cloak.

He withdrew a shiny white mask and slipped it over his swollen, bruised face, and tied its ribbon tight behind his head.

Darkness veiled Claira's weary eyes.

The next set of memories happened in a sequence of blurred images and sounds, like a collection of nightmares; the kind that a dreamer vaguely remembers after he awakens, or fights to forget.

Claira's body spiraled through the darkness, and then was tossed into a dim, distorted room. It resembled a study, with dozens of worn books on crooked shelves, scattered scrolls and a mahogany desk that kept shifting in size. In the center of the room stood five cloaked figures. They were circling around a short, burly man bounded by magical ropes. He was flopping on the floor like a stubby worm on a hook. Claira inched closer and saw that blood was oozing from his nose and mouth, and his eyes were burnt shut.

"I think we have all the information we need," croaked one of the wizards. "We had better dispose of him before the Aurors arrive."

"Right. I'll do it." A tall, hooded man stepped forward and pointed his wand at the struggling man on the floor.

"No," snapped another. "Severus, it is time you earned your place. Show Mr. Greenwich here what happens to those who refuse to pay tribute to the Dark Lord."

Claira watched as the tall, hooded man stepped aside to allow a thin, masked wizard to come forward. The only evidence that it was Severus, were the sweaty strands of black hair that clung to his temples. He stood over the squirming man on the floor and pointed his wand.

The others stared in silence, waiting for the curse to be administered.

Severus hesitated.

He twisted the wand in his hand for a better grip; its handle had become slippery from his skin's perspiration. Claira could hear him panting from beneath the mask and saw the sweat drip off his chin like a miniature waterfall.

"Well, boy? What are you waiting for? Get on with it!" snarled the tall, hooded man.

Severus flinched and flicked his wand at the flopping body, but he did not speak the incantation. He began to totter back and forth, his chest heaving beneath his black robes, as if he were about to faint.

"Lucius, the boy is incompetent. We do not have time for this nonsense - "

"Silence!" the man hissed, pulling off his mask. "I do believe the Dark Lord put me in charge. As such, I shall decide whether or not we have the time."

He approached Severus and placed a hand on his shoulder, and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Ignore them - the first time is always difficult. Try to envision someone you hate, someone you would like to kill if you had the chance."

"My father," Severus muttered.

"Good. Now picture him in your mind. Focus on the hate. Feel the anger and let it flow through your veins - utilize the skills the Dark Lord has taught you." He moved to stand beside Severus's other shoulder. "Concentrate. Look at that disgusting lump of lard on the floor. He is your father. Do you see it?"

Severus straightened his back and raised his wand, no longer trembling. "Yes, I see it."

"Excellent," the man grinned. "Kill him."

The room fell into a dead silence, and then -

"Avada Kedavra."

The squirming man on the floor stilled. There was no gasp, no cry or movement when the curse struck his chest. He just stiffened and lay there with his eyes open, frozen. It was a frightening thing to watch. In all her years of study and volunteer work at the hospital, Claira had never witnessed the Killing Curse or seen its effects.

As she stared down at the dead body, a cold chill crawled up her spine; the realization of it struck her heart like a bolt of lightning. Severus had committed murder.

The air filled with the sound of cracking whips as the other men disapparated, leaving Severus alone with the corpse. Stealing a quick glance around the room, he removed his mask and held it to his side.

The spectral glow of the fire cast its haunting light upon his thin, sallow face; what Claira saw there made her shiver. His features were wrought with hatred and the darkness of his magic shrouded his eyes with an evil so black she could no longer see life in them. He looked corpse-like, more so than the carcass at his feet.

But despite his swarthy visage, his body had begun to tremble. Claira suspected that he no longer saw the mirage of his slain father, but the innocent man who had refused to hand his gold over to the Dark Lord. Severus bowed his head, his long black hair falling over his face to veil his shame.

Just then, another crack sounded and the man named Lucius reappeared. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Severus standing over the limp body. As if struggling to conceal a hidden animosity, his lip drew into a sneer, then thinned again when Severus lifted his gaze. "Come along, Severus. We have other work to do."

Severus nodded and backed away from the corpse, replacing his Death Eater mask.

"It gets easier with practice," Lucius told him, lifting his wand. "But you won't learn it hiding behind your cauldrons - it requires experience."

Severus drew himself up to a proud stance. "The Dark Lord has ordered me to brew - "

"As I have said," Lucius snapped, his nose wrinkling as if he had just caught whiff of a foul odor. "You will not stay in Lord Voldemort's graces by waving your ladle about like some pompous arse. You must earn his respect, as we have, by reinforcing his power upon those who dare to oppose him. Unless, of course, you are under the illusion that the Dark Lord favors your talents, and thinks you are above the rest of us?"

Severus averted his eyes. "No, clearly not."

"Good. Then I shall grant you the honor of first kill at Durham Manor." He flashed a false grin. "Come, the others are waiting."

Claira heard two sharp pops before the room was consumed by blackness.

She quivered and wrapped her arms around herself, exhausting the last of her tears. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought Severus sunk so deep into the Darkness. Had he learnt nothing from Professor Falcor's teachings? Or was it so important for him to belong to something that he was willing to do anything, even the most heinous of crimes?

That boy, that creature, was not the man Claira knew.

She cringed when the new light approached, terrified of what else she might discover about Severus. However, the next memory the pensieve regurgitated was utter chaos and too confusing to understand. Claira heard women screaming, saw flashes of terrified faces and green flashes of light cast from the tip of an ebony wand. Angry voices shouted at Severus from the shadows, while others cackled and taunted him.

There was no definitive space or time, only blackness and memories that seemed to bleed together to make one short, horrifying filmstrip. Claira counted close to a dozen witches and wizards: Muggles, young and old, who appeared like phantasms through the darkness, all with eyes that were hollow, and lifeless. Whether or not they were all victims murdered by Severus's hands, Claira did not know. She did not want to know.

She would never know.

The pensieve had performed another transition, launching her into a grand hall of smoke, soft music and chatter. Although everyone wore lavish gowns and handsome robes, Claira suspected it was an informal party, possibly hosted by someone who was wealthy and seeking prestige. She recognized a few of the faces from old newspaper articles; many of them worked for the Ministry of Magic.

Severus stood beside the man named Lucius; both were dressed in extravagant robes and were surveying the crowd with an air of superiority. Claira's heart skipped a beat as she stared at the younger man of the two. Severus had shed his gauntness and was now her age, a bachelor in his prime. He stood proud and smart but with a forbidden, devilish glint in his eyes.

Claira's knees felt weak, and her legs wobbled when she moved closer to hear what Lucius was murmuring from behind his raised glass of wine.

"I heard the Dark Lord was very pleased with your latest concoction. So much, in fact, that he decided to employ it in his recent plot to overthrow the Ministry. You must be proud?"

"Yes, he spoke of an assassination plan in which it might be of some use," Severus grinned. "However, he did not elaborate as to whom."

Lucius raised a sharp, wicked eyebrow.

Just then, an attractive female wearing a tight, black silk dress approached them. In one hand, she held a silver platter garnished with fresh caviar and lobster croquettes, while the other balanced a salver of elegant wineglasses. Severus plucked one up between his long, slender fingers and dismissed her with a curt nod, but his lusty eyes followed her across the room.

Once she was out of sight, Severus tilted the glass to his lips.

Lucius cleared his throat. "I would suggest not swallowing that if you wish to keep your good health."

Severus glanced at the untapped glass in Lucius's hand, narrowed his eyes, and then discretely spat the wine back into his own glass.

Lucius grinned. "Clever boy. Now, relax and keep a low profile; I suspect things are about to get quite interesting."

He checked his pocket watch, and then lifted his hand to signal another man standing near the entranceway. A silent exchange passed between the two men before Lucius handed his glass to Severus and disappeared into the crowd.

A few moments later, Claira heard loud gasps and shrieks, and then what sounded like a small rumble of thunder. She spun around and, much to her horror, saw dozens of bodies slumped on the floor, dead. Many of them were still clutching their wineglasses.

Severus stared at the massacre with an open, quivering jaw. The two glasses he held slipped from his fingers and shattered on the marble floor around his black, snakeskin dress shoes.

The sound of clapping hands rose above the haunting melody of violins streaming in the background. Lucius and the other man approached Severus from across the room, stepping over bodies as if they were meager lumps of stone in their pathway.

"Well done, Severus," Lucius said. "You have finally proven your worth to the Dark Lord. I must say, I did have my doubts about you, but tonight you have surpassed my expectations."

"Indeed," the other man muttered.

Just then, the entrance doors swung open and in walked a tall, gangly man. His voice was sharp and impatient. "Lucius, I think it would be best to leave before the Aurors are dispatched; Avery has just cast the Dark Mark over the manor."

"He did, did he? I told the fool to wait until..." Lucius pierced his lips as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't. He then clamped his hand on Severus's shoulder. "No matter. Come along, Severus, we have a little celebration party to attend to at Macnair's mansion."

Severus followed the men out of the hall, his dark eyes glued to the mass of dead bodies on the floor. He was the last to exit. And, as he pulled the doors closed behind him, he paused to stare at the devastation his misguided talents had caused. The expression on his face was one of confusion, fear, mortification and shock, as if he had just awoken from a false reality.

As Claira gazed into his disenchanted eyes, she felt the pull of the pensieve. It cloaked her body in darkness, and spun her for only a moment before thrusting her into the next memory.

This new remembrance appeared to be a sequel to the last. Severus was still dressed in his luxurious robes but now stood in a warm, torch lit cellar. The smell of alcohol, smoke and musk burned Claira's nostrils; it was a surprising attack on her senses that she had not experienced with the other memories.

Strange sounds also surrounded her, attracting her eyes to the shadowy corners of the chamber; there Claira saw men engaged in sexual acts with what she suspected were harlots dressed in leather or lace, depending on that particular wizard's preference. Some of them were coupled, while others participated in orgies.

It then dawned on her that the musky scent of the room was not one of an aged, underground lair but of raw, exposed sex. Claira's eyes widened in both shock and disgust. She quickly placed her finger beneath her nose to block the stench and turned her head back towards Severus, but he had moved away from the door.

Her eyes darted around the room in search of him, and she spotted him in the back with a brimming goblet of liquor in hand and a thin, bony-hipped whore strung on his shoulder. Claira cringed at the sight of it but forced herself to approach him. He was speaking to the man named Macnair, the unfortunate owner of the manor and its shady cellar; Claira knew him from his role as the Ministry's executioner, which she now realized was used as a cover to deter society from knowing his true profession as one of the Dark Lord's henchman.

Closing in on the conversation, Claira passed by two men that she recognized from the night Severus had received the Dark Mark; they were the two boys also branded with the serpent and the skull but not accepted into the inner circle of Death Eaters. It was made obvious then by the scowls on their faces that they were not fond of him.

One of them, a man with squinty eyes, muttered to the other, "Just look at that pompous fraud, acting as if he is all-deserving. Why, any fool could mix toxins together and make a poison. The Dark Lord acts as if the bastard had brewed a bloody miracle!"

"Too right. And he missed another raid last night, third one this month," spat the other, glaring at Severus. "Thinks he's above the rest of us, that one does."

"Well then, perhaps it is time someone put him in his place."

The other man, whose long hair was sleeked back with an oily substance, turned to the squinty-eyed man and raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"What I mean is... " His voice lowered to a whisper as they bowed their heads together.

Claira could no longer hear what they were saying but she suspected the two were concocting a malicious scheme, no doubt spawned from their jealousy and resentment towards Severus. The catty glances they were casting in his direction left an ill feeling in her stomach.

Her eyes remained fixated on them, unable to shed the sense of dread that was now creeping up her spine. She watched as they discarded their wine goblets, gave one final nod to each other, and strode over to Severus with swift, purposeful steps.

They each clapped a hand on opposite sides of his shoulders, which startled him into spilling a small portion of his drink onto the dusty, stone floor.

The man with oily hair shoved the bony whore aside, while the squinty-eyed man said to Severus, "I heard you put on quite a show tonight. Fifty-seven dead, is it? Not a bad tally for a single night's work. Of course, one must take into consideration the fact that the poison performed most of the magic, if not all of it."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What is it you want, Medeley?"

"Why, only to congratulate you, of course. After all, you are the man of the hour."

"Hear, hear!" crowed the other. "What say you to a round of Ogden's and a proper celebration?"

They grinned at each other and tightened their grip on his cloak. The oily-haired man plucked the goblet from Severus's hand and thrust it at the whore, as he and Medeley ushered Severus towards a wooden door hidden in a dark corner of the cellar.

Severus began to struggle as they neared it, but the two men forced him forward and pushed him through the doorway. They released him once they were all inside the room.

Claira gasped at the horror that awaited her, and tried to flee the chamber, but the doorway was sealed with a black void; the pensieve would not allow her to leave the memory. She had no choice but to endure the gruesome display.

There was more coupling in this room, only these women did not look like harlots, nor did they appear to be involved in consensual acts; they were shrieking, clawing and weeping at the men. Some of them were not women at all, but nude young girls with bite marks on their bodies and bruises on their thighs, wrists and faces. The men had their wands pointed to their temples, spitting instructions and casting harsh punishments when they were refused.

Severus stood frozen, his jaw tightening as he stared at the spectacle.

"What's the matter, Snape?" oozed the squinty-eyed man. "The sight of nude women doesn't bother you, does it? Or perhaps you prefer naked boys instead?"

Severus's eyes flashed, and he whirled around - only to have two wands jabbed into his throat.

"What I would like to know is why you never participate in the more pleasurable executions of our enemies, these unpure Muggles and Mudbloods? And yet, you are all too willing to take a whore to bed. Surely you do not think these vile creatures worthy of sympathy? Perhaps you have a heart in that feeble chest of yours after all."

"Fuck you, Travers," Severus spat.

"No," Medeley replied, "Fuck _her_, right now - prove your loyalty. We would all like to see you get your bloody hands dirty for once."

He pointed to a young girl sobbing on the floor. She was on her back, blood escaping from her nostrils, knees quivering as the brutal wizard kneeling between her legs fastened up his trousers. She looked to be no more than fifteen years of age.

Severus narrowed his eyes and hissed, "I need to prove nothing to you."

"No?" he grinned. "Imperio!"

Severus stiffened, his eyes dulling to the texture of stones.

"As I was saying," Medeley continued, "get down on your hands and knees, and - "

"NOOO!" roared Severus, the intelligence and control returning to his eyes.

Medeley quickly raised his wand and repeated, "IMPERIO!"

Severus's eyes dulled, but did not sink into a trance as they had the first time. After a moment, his mind regained control and his hand plunged into his robes for his wand.

"IMPERIO!"

"He is an Occlumens, you dolt! His mind is too strong - "

"Ready your wand! He can't break a double incantation," Medeley cried.

Travers lifted his wand, and they both shouted in unison, "IMPERIO!"

Severus stumbled backwards and fell to his knees, his eyes now flat and muted from his thoughts.

"Now, do as I say, defile this piece of filth and then dispose of her," Medeley rasped.

Claira's eyes tore across the room in panic. The other men, the ones Severus had once considered to be allies, were all watching - watching and doing nothing to stop it. Many of them sneered down at him, as if they too thought he deserved to be punished for his accomplishments and lack of common virtues, however dark and twisted they were.

The man named Lucius, Severus's corrupt mentor, sat in a nearby armchair. He had long, curly locks sprawled across his nude thighs, a woman's head bopping up and down between his legs; however, his grey eyes were locked on Severus, amusement in his gaze, wantonness even.

Claira felt as though she were about to vomit. Just then, a bloodcurdling scream rang out, and she looked down to see that it had come from the young girl; Severus had her wrists pinned to the floor and her naked, battered body trapped beneath his clothed one.

"Please, no... don't!" the girl sobbed, kicking out her feet with what little energy and willpower she had left.

Severus ignored her pleas. He continued to grunt and grind his hips between her thin legs, as if the barrier of fabric between them was nonexistent.

The room suddenly began to blur. Images of faces became smeared across a black background, and all Claira could hear were men's laughter and a child's desperate cries for help.

Then her sight returned.

Severus was propped up on his elbows now, half nude, and staring down at the trembling girl in a mixture of confusion and shock. He glanced between them and released a shaky sigh; his trousers were still intact. He had not managed penetration. But, what he had managed to do was break the dual curse the two men had placed on him.

In a flash, he was on his feet and had his wand pointed, curses spewing from his mouth. There was more laughter from the spectators as the two men fell to the floor, their bodies mangled and twitching.

The cruel wizards did not seem to care who was being tortured, friend or foe, as long as they were entertained.

Severus stared around the room, his eyes frantic and mortified. He slowly backed away towards the door, and then in a leap bounded out of the room.

Claira chased him out of the cellar, along a dim corridor, through the entrance hall and out of the manor.

The moment moonlight touched his sallow skin, he apparated from the grounds.

There was a brief moment of spiraling blackness before Claira was thrust onto the cold, wet grounds of Hogwarts. It was still nighttime. Severus lay beside her on his back, just outside the entrance gates. He had his hands over his face, and his robes were splayed open to reveal fresh fingernail scratches on his chest and shoulders.

He remained this way for several long minutes, until at last he sat up and turned to stare at the castle. Claira could see its tiny, shinning torchlights reflecting in his hollow eyes. His expression was of one who felt betrayed, ashamed, fretful and yet eager to return to the one place he could call home.

As if a powerful wind had swept him off his feet, Severus was up and halfway across the field before Claira even realized he had moved. She sprang to her feet and ran after him but her sore, tired body was hardly able to carry her weight. Still, she forced herself on. She had to know, had to hear Dumbledore's reaction to his story, and also what story Severus would tell. After all, this was the beginning of his years as a spy for the Order, or so legend had it.

Claira saw his faint shadow in the distance and sprinted towards the entrance gates. But just as she passed through the swinging steal bars a tall, dark figure emerged from the opposite side, and she collided into it. The impact knocked her off balance and she fell backwards onto the damp, slippery grass. Her back hit the ground with a hard thud.

"Umph!"

It was not possible for a pensieve memory to parent solid objects, Claira told herself, while lifting her gaze to a pair of familiar black boots. Her eyes quickly rose past the gorge of sable buttons to stare straight into the fiery eyes of Severus Snape.

He was no longer the translucent memory of his younger self but of present age, and made of flesh and bone.

Claira's worst fear had come true - Severus had indeed returned early.

The reality of it did not sink in until he swooped down and yanked her up by her arm. His breath was steaming out through his nostrils, his grip tightening with each passing moment. He did not speak a word. There was no need; Claira could see the fury in his eyes, feel it in his burning fingertips. She had never seen him more enraged.

To be continued...

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_**Author's note:** I know, I know - another bloody cliffhanger. There was just no way around it. This chapter is nearly 15,000 words! In another week or so I will be moving to a new house, which would have suspended writing for another few weeks (I have taken several already along the course of this chapter to make the purchase). I promise to continue as soon as I am settled in. Have faith in me; I vow to see Cauldrons Aflame through till the end. Thank you all for returning time and time again to read._

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**Commentaries**

**Animagious-White-Tiger:** Yes, I did promise to post bi-weekly on Occlumency (http / occlumency . sycophanthex . com / - without spaces, this site deletes urls). It is where I am reposting this story with additions and revisions of the earlier chapters, when I was just beginning to learn how to write. But I have a lot on my plate to chew right now. Anyone who has purchased a home knows what I am going through! It eats up tons of my time aside from motherhood, a nighttime job, home business and wifely duties. Please, bear with me! I hope to free up some time once we make the move.

As for your comments, Severus was overly severe with Healey when he had hexed Claira, I agree. He did not expel Malfoy for the lust draught because he was only beginning to develop feelings for Claira; it was more lust than love at that point. But with Healey, Severus was out of his mind and over-reacted, acting on his sweltering emotions rather than good sense. I originally had more to Healey's story, but it was cut due to its irrelevance to the central plot. So, for those of you who are upset by Severus's treatment of him, know that Dumbledore appealed the expulsion and minimized the boy's sentence to two weeks of detention with Filch. However, the boy's parents were so enraged they withdrew their son from Hogwarts and placed him in Durmstrang for the remainder of his schooling years. As for his wand, Dumbledore deducted the cost to replace it out of Severus's pay.

As for the tense thing, yes, I had trouble with it when I first began. I have since found an incredible beta. She has taught me so much and helped me to improve my writing by 100. She also happens to be the author of my favorite Snape fic, "A Winter's Fairy Tale". I would recommend anyone who has not read it to do so immediately.

Thank you for taking the time to review all my chapters!

**Déjà vu**: I based my Snape on Alan Rickman from the movie, only younger. The voice, of course, is the same! What woman could resist that deep, velvet tone? Thanks for rereading!

**DrunkenBuddie:** Thank you!

**Carole:** Yes, I have this theory that all people look at their lovers in a glorified light, their eyes attracting to the better points and dismissing the others. That is why Severus appears to be handsomer than life (or should I say, book-life?) To Claira, he is strong. But in reality, he is built just below average, his hair is greasier than sheen and his nose is much larger than she gives it credit for!

I am glad you are still enjoying the story, even though it takes me ages to post. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It was my most challenging yet. But I think chapter 36 will be my undoing! We shall see...

**Kay50:** Thanks! I hope you liked it.

**Ayoraii:** Thank you for your offer. Luckily, I have found a terrific beta. I paint Snape in accordance to my own taste in men. I am attracted to tall, manly men who take the first initiative and don't wimp out of a fight. And yet, are incredibly passionate and loyal to the women they love. Most of the men I have dated have been older and in an authority position. I'm glad to know I am not the only one! Thanks for reading.

**Lyrabelagua:** Claira's naivety and sheltered life make her vulnerable and girly, as you say. But just as Snape is changing, Claira too will change. Severus IS taking advantage of her innocent nature, but he is also teaching her to toughen her defenses, even against those she loves. Severus must be careful though, for everyone has his or her limits. Thank you for reviewing!

**Estaki:** How about Severus walking in as she is halfway submerged? Thank you for reading!

**Rochelle:** I am flattered! Thank you for taking the time to review.

**Mary-Brenna McCaslin:** Thank you very much! Keep reading; it gets better!

**Lee:** You were right! And there were many more after his return to Hogwarts, and many more that were never recorded inside the pensieve. Claira only viewed about a quarter of his horrors. Thank you for reading!

**Spitfirecracker:** Snape is not as handsome, nor as strong, as Claira makes him out to be. Remember, we are looking at him through her eyes. But I have since learned how to express my ideas better, and will be making massive revisions to the earlier chapters. You can find them on Occlumency. Thank you for reviewing!

**Meru Miku Miyu:** As long as people keep reading, I will keep writing. Thank you for your kind words. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**DreamMakerLady:** Severus is under the illusion that he is in control, but is he really? Claira definitely has him hooked, but she better be careful not to pull the line too tight when reeling him in, else the line might snap. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

**Jennifer-Cairns:** Thank you! The juicy scenes are always the most enjoyable to write. There are more to come, I promise. Keep reading!

**Pickles87:** Only Snape's very worst memories made it into the pensieve; else this chapter would be a million pages long! Claira only dipped a finger into his past. Imagine what else she might have learned if she had been able to stay, or if he had added all his terrible memories to the pensieve; he was insanely abused and neglected in his youth. Thank you for reading and taking the time to leave a comment. I appreciate it!

**Jonequillejaune:** Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! LOL.

**Elaine M. Lahey:** Even the most delicate rose has its thorns. Claira is very forgiving and understanding, but even she has her limits. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

**Anita:** Thank you very much. It is very disheartening to have people read your story and not take a moment to tell you their thoughts on it. It takes me months to write a single chapter and only ten minutes to read! A simple, "this sucks!" would be better than nothing at all! LOL. But everyone really opened up this time. Thank you for that. I hope you keep reading.

**Ultrahotpink:** Its good to hear from you. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this.

**Ciara Scarborough:** The penname is the same, just a different site. I will be updating here as well. With the Occlumency site, I wanted to start the story over fresh and really make the entire thing quality. So I am rewriting the earlier chapters and posting them there. It was more of a precaution in case this site goes down. Thank you for reading!

**Sportzjunkie:** Once again, your insight has astounded me. You always manage to pick up on everything I try to express. With this story, I wanted the readers to see inside both the character's minds, not just the Heroine's. Snape is so complex, and just as difficult to write. He exhausts me. This chapter, I'm afraid, is not as humorous as the last. But it is more important than anything I have written so far. Claira's love has been put to the ultimate test here. Next chapter we will see if her love forgives all. But when Snape's feelings are challenged, will his love prevail? That has yet to be seen. Thank you, so very much, for taking the time to tell me your thoughts. Your comments are so dear to me.

**Floppyears:** Cute name! Thank you for reading.

**Queen of the Sacred Flames:** Hmmm, interesting theory. We shall see... Thank you for reviewing!

**Shadow of the Jyuunishi**: Interesting name! Thank you for taking the time to read the story. There will be more sauciness soon, I promise. But things are getting complicated now. Too many feelings are involved and choices must be made. There is so much more to a relationship than sex, as Snape is learning. The feelings he has for her don't seem to go away after he is done, and he is trying to find out what it all means, and what to do about it. I hope you keep reading!

**Pinklittlewitch:** It is here, but this site won't allow URLs so you'll have to subtract the spaces: http / occlumency . sycophanthex . com /. I hope you like the revisions. And thank you for reading!

**SevyHero:** Good question! I don't think men ever stop thinking with their 'ahem'! LOL. Keep reading, and all your questions will be answered. Thank you for reviewing, as always.

**Run Wild:** Of course, thank you for all that you do!

**Jade shintz:** You know, I think Severus has now adopted that phrase and will forever be known as saying, "Suffice it to say...". LOL. I love it! Thank you for reading!

**Courtney Anne:** Right you are! But is she strong enough to resist his charms? We shall see... Thanks for reviewing!

**Indomita:** Your encouragement has urged me on. And I will continue until the end. Don't worry. As long as I know people are reading, I will keep writing. Thank you so much.

**Whew! Thank you all for taking the time to tell me your thoughts. You have no idea how precious they are to me. Until next time... **


	35. Truth or Dare?

**Note to readers:** I am aggrieved to say that I was unable to finish this chapter in its entirety. I have taken on yet another job to help supplement the rising gas prices and living expenses. It has severely cut into my writing time. Instead of prolonging the cliffhanger for another few months, or God knows when I would ever get to finish it, I have decided to post this first scene. I know it is disappointingly short, but at least it has some closure. I will continue with the next portion as soon as I can. Thank you for understanding.

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Chapter: 35 (Part One)

**Truth or Dare?**

Claira could feel Severus's black gimlet eyes staring at her through the swirling darkness, as their bodies soared towards the surface of the basin. She tried to speak but was muted by the sudden, cold thrust of the pensieve as it spat them out feet first.

They were now standing in the makeshift attic. Severus, with his hand still clamped on her arm, pulled her roughly against his chest. He moved his face within inches of hers. Lips almost touching, breathing shallow, he hissed, "How dare you?"

He then pushed her away from him with such a brute force that Claira fell to the floor, her knees scraping across its coarse surface. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and into her face, masking her shame.

She held back her tears, and pleaded, "Severus, please, I didn't mean to - "

"Get caught?" he spat. "Answer me this, how did you manage it? Only my wand alone could bring down those wards. Who sent you?" His eyes narrowed. "The Dark Lord?"

It all made perfect sense to him now. Why else would a beautiful young woman be interested in a man such as himself, and sleep with him no less? He knew the inner workings of a spy all too well. She had discovered a weakness in his armor, and had used her sexual allure as a weapon to penetrate the most guarded chambers of his mind.

How could he have been so trusting? He trusted no one.

Claira felt a sharp pain in her heart: his accusation had cut through her like the rusted edge of a sword. "What? No one! The staircase was there when I entered the room. How could you even assume -? You must believe me!"

"That, my dear, would require trust," he said in disgust. "And I don't trust you now." His lip quivered as he approached her. "Look at me!"

He grabbed her jaw and tilted her face upwards. His eyes penetrated hers. "Legilimens."

_She had been in his study, peeping behind tapestries and rummaging through his desk. She had come close to uncovering a verboten scroll - but no, her hand passed over its hiding hole behind a loose stone on the fireplace wall._

_Then she had stolen into his bedchambers. There indeed was the staircase. He had forgotten to conceal it in his rush to return to Snape Manor the previous night. Damn._

He broke eye contact

So, she had told him the truth, but that did not excuse her treachery. The fact remained that she had deliberately entered his quarters in search of that which was forbidden. There was then only one question that he needed to address before taking the appropriate action.

"Why?" he whispered.

Claira bowed her head, allowing her curls to fall over her face once more. "I wanted to know why you keep me at arm's length, why you push me away only to pull me back again. When you left last night, without saying goodbye, I wondered where you had gone. I wondered if I had done something wrong or said something to offend you." She lifted her gaze. Her eyes searched his dark glower for a sign of acceptance, and forgiveness. He offered her neither. "I was confused, hurt… I thought, maybe, if I knew your past, I would get to understand you. But you would never talk to me about it."

"And with due cause, you stupid girl! Did you really think I wanted to share my history with you? That my sins were something to be discussed over a cup of tea?" His face twisted in anger. "No, those were my thoughts you stole! Those were my bloody memories!"

His eyes flashed at her. In them, Claira saw hate, rage, anguish and…. shame?

Her lips parted in shock. Not once had she stopped to think her actions that night might cause him embarrassment: he had always stood so proud in the face of scrutiny. Looking at him now, however, Claira could not deny her fault in the matter. He had every right to be furious. But did her actions warrant such a fierce reaction? Perhaps.

She had to make him see reason.

Severus scowled and turned his back to her, one hand slipping into his robe pocket to retrieve his wand. His voice suddenly lowered to an icy, almost inaudible whisper. "I trust you now have the answers you so eagerly sought? Tell me, are you satisfied with your findings? Does it bring you pleasure to know I was an abused child? A murderer?"

Claira's chest began to burn at the insult of his words. How could he say something so heinous? He acted as though she had gotten some sort of sick gratification out of watching him suffer. Despite her fear of him at that moment, a burst of courage lifted from her stomach, and expelled from her lips. "You may be right about my behavior tonight, Severus. It was wrong of me to view your pensieves without your permission. But don't you dare accuse me of taking pleasure in your pain! It nearly killed me to watch your father beat you - I'm sure that spilt pitcher of milk wasn't the first time you were punished for something you didn't do."

Severus winced, as if she had struck him across the cheek with her hand. His face turned a dark shade of crimson, and his breathing became so heavy she could hear the air as it entered and escaped through his nostrils. Still, she continued. " I can't even begin to describe to you how difficult it was for me to witness you become the by-product of your parents' abuse, to watch how their neglect had led you to murder. When you killed that man in his study, I was so terrified -!"

Severus swung about, arm raised. Body quivering with rage, the tips of his ears burning a brilliant red, he shouted, "Enough!"

Claira's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his wand. Her pulse quickened, as fear quickly engulfed her thoughts. He looked possessed! She realized immediately she should not have spoken about the things she had seen; it would probably have been better if she had not spoken at all. Her eyes darted about the attic for a way to escape.

His eyes narrowed at her trembling form. "Yes, my past might well frighten you. And now you have no escape from it, or from me. So, there is little point in you looking at that trap door."

He flicked his wand and locked it.

"You don't really think I would let you leave here with all those secrets in your head, do you? Not even Dumbledore knows the things you have now seen."

The torchlights flickered, almost diminishing beneath the breeze from his cloak as he ascended on her, his wand aglow. His eyes were emotionless.

Claira's eyes widened, and she shivered. "Oh no! Severus, don't! Please forgive me. I only wanted to understand you - to know you better. I had to know if you felt anything for me at all."

His boots thudded loudly against the wood floor as he neared, his wand pointed at her left temple. Her eyes swept to the oak table; on it lay her wand, too far out of reach to be of any use to her now. Defenseless and cornered, Claira was at Severus's mercy. She began to sob as his shadow fell upon her, the black tip of his wand inches from her head.

"Please, don't do this…"

He stood over her, silent and expressionless.

Her tear-filled eyes met his. "Severus, please, I beg you."

Severus paused at the sound of her trembling voice. As he looked down upon her, he could see she was frightened. Good. The girl ought not to have meddled in his private affairs. He had no intentions of sharing such intimacies with her, or anyone. And to think, he had once thought her incapable of any wrongdoing! What a fool he had been, to trust a woman so. He would not allow it to happen again.

His fingers tightened around the handle of his wand.

And yet, as he continued to stare into her pleading eyes, the same eyes that had twice revealed to him a passion beyond definition, indeed the very same eyes that had lured him back to Hogwarts for a third night of reckless endeavor, his wand remained dormant in his hand. His eyes moved to her cowering form, now childlike and feeble in comparison to the marvel it was moments ago. Striped of all shame, she was begging him for her life.

A violent shudder passed through him.

It had been his intention to frighten her as punishment for her misdeed, before taking possession of his stolen memories. But it had not been his will to instill such fear in her that she felt her life was in danger. He would never, _could_ never, hurt her. Not _her_. Despite his anger, despite the fact that a simple memory charm would have struck the night's events from her mind, he could not endure the guilt that would surely come of knowing that, in that moment, she thought him capable of committing murder.

Slowly, he lowered his wand.

His free hand rose to touch her, to reassure her, to calm her. He was shocked to note that his hand trembled just as she did on the floor beneath him. He fought to steady it.

He crouched down beside her. "Claira - it's all right. I was not going to harm you, only release you of those memories. I thought if I Obliviated you, it would rectify the situation. But I should not have raised my wand to you."

She cringed at his touch. When he removed his hand, she scrambled towards the trap door.

"I know what you must think of me," he muttered, casting his wand to unlock it. "I'm not proud of my past, if that is what you think. Nor do I blame you for wanting nothing further to do with me."

Claira fumbled with the latch, her body shaking.

He bowed his head. "But I must ask you, if you have any shred of compassion left for me, not to share what you have learned here tonight. It would ruin my standing both as the Potions master of this school, and as an accomplished alchemist. Oblige me that, and I will trouble you no more."

The girl had no idea that one word of it could destroy all he had set out to achieve. He would never have come as far as he had, if not for the fact that no one knew of the things he had done during his Death Eater years: Dumbledore had convinced the Ministry that he had acted under the influence of the Imperius Curse. The work he had put in, the years he had spent rebuilding his status amongst society, was now at threat. His reputation rested in Claira's very small, very fragile hands.

Claira had the trapdoor open, her escape just a few steps away. Her heart was pounding and her mind befuddled by the tidal wave of emotions Severus had wrought, both inside and outside the pensieve. She was frightened of him, of his short temper and irrational behavior. He was a dangerous man with a complex and dangerous past. It was unsafe for her to be near him any longer.

She stole one last glance at him before stepping down, but what she saw made her pause. Severus was on his knees, slouched over with his face buried in his hands. To see him in such an open, vulnerable position made her heart still.

In that moment, she no longer saw a menacing man, but that little boy in the pensieve: the one whose only comfort came from a dark shadow in the corner of a cold, empty manor house; a boy who was forsaken by the world; a boy who had never known love. How she had wanted to embrace him then, to hold him close to her breast and rock him to a calm. No child should ever have to live such a lonely existence, void of nurturing and compassion. No man either.

It was then that Claira began to understand. How could she have ever expected Severus to express feelings within himself that he never knew existed? What he needed was a lesson in love. What he needed was someone willing to teach him love.

The trapdoor snapped shut.

Severus closed his eyes. She had gone. It was too much to ask her to believe he had changed, that he regretted those many mistakes, which even now still haunted him. It pained him to realize that Claira was no different than the rest. She was nothing short of a silly girl whose head was full of romantic fantasies; a girl who chased after dreams instead of facing reality; a girl who should mean nothing to him. Yet…

His chest felt weak and hollow. She _meant_ nothing to him! What they had shared was a brief passing of mutual attraction. Lust. He normally paid for his sexual gratification, and so he could count himself fortunate she had given herself to him free of charge. She had willingly undressed for him and they had consummated that desire. Now it was merely time to bid her good riddance.

"Severus."

Soft, tender hands slid into his, pulling them away from his face. He opened his eyes, and was both surprised and confused to see Claira staring back at him. She too was on her knees, an indescribable look in her eyes.

"I thought you had gone," he breathed, fighting back the urge to reach out and cup her face, which was now so near to his.

She smiled and touched his cheek with her hand, satisfying the need for contact. "No, I want to stay."

"How could you possibly?" he whispered, covering her hand with his. "After all that you have seen here tonight?"

Her gentle breath warmed his face, her eyes never straying from his. "I love you, Severus. There is nothing that could ever change how I feel about you. There is no magic more powerful than love."

He tore his eyes from hers. "I have done nothing to deserve your affections, or your forgiveness."

"I know in my heart that you are not the same man you once were. Because of your recent contributions to the Ministry's Defense Department, and by your tutoring of all those children, whose minds were just as susceptible to the Dark Arts as your mind once was, you have saved more lives than you ever could have taken. You have succeeded where most have failed. How could I not be but in awe of you?" Pressing her hand to his cheek again, she forced him to look at her, and whispered, "Let me be the judge of whether I think you deserve my love or not."

And then she kissed him, their lips reuniting an invisible bond that had formed between them. Severus groaned and pulled her into his lap, into his eager arms that were now just as willing to forgive.

When their mouths parted, Claira laid her weary head upon his shoulder and they melted into a warm, cozy embrace. There was no longer any need for words; somehow, he knew she would never betray his secrets, nor his trust again. Severus closed his eyes at the soothing motion of their gently swaying bodies, feeling a tranquility and peace unlike anything he had ever experienced. He, too, was exhausted by the whole ordeal, and was left with little strength to contest spending the remainder of the night at Hogwarts, in her arms.

Silence reigned in the attic. After a time, Severus felt her body relax into an unmistakable state of slumber. He leaned back against a wooden pillar, an act that helped to support their weight, and released a deep sigh characteristic of one pondering over a complex, alchemic equation. Claira's conscious confession of love had caused a most curious disturbance in his chest and stomach, not wholly unpleasant, and he could not help but wonder if perhaps there was something more to be said about this so-called 'love-magic' of hers.

By allowing the girl to love him, and by allowing himself to experience this particular strand of magic she called love, he would achieve a broader spectrum of knowledge. He reasoned he could possibly benefit from this experience. Of course, he would have to convince her that his feelings were the same as hers. However, judging by the way she lay so trusting in his arms, her devotion practically leaping from her breast, he did not think that would be difficult to achieve.

But then there was another obstacle that stood before him: time. He only had two months before he was to be awarded the Order of Merlin. After that, if he had any hopes of procuring a position at the Ministry, he could not be seen gallivanting with a Muggleborn. So, he had to extract as much as he could from the girl within the allotted time.

Again, that did not present itself as a difficult feat, not for Severus Snape.

His decision was made.

As the night progressed into morning, Severus roused Claira and suggested they move to the comfort of his bed. He then helped her through the trapdoor, down the staircase, and onto one of his large feather pillows. She murmured a 'thank you' as he removed her shoes and tugged the blankets over her sleepy form.

She slipped back into sleep.

He administered a soft kiss to her lips before turning to leave. He would not be staying, although he was in dire need of rest and wanted very much to lie down beside her, to feel her warm, nude body pressed against his bare skin. But no, it was nearly five-thirty; he had to return to Snape Manor before his mother discovered he had left for a third night.

Severus scowled as he resealed the wards on his attic. It was not as if the haggard woman even wanted him there in the first place: the feeling was likewise. What she wanted was to exploit the holiday as a family affair, so as to disillusion local busybodies and inquiring minds from the idea that the Snapes were anything less than perfect. His attendance every Christmas, no matter how grueling or torturous it was, secured his inheritance: a vast fortune that he rightfully deserved and had no intentions of losing.

Of course, that meant having to endure all his mother's wicked little games.

And so he found himself, once again, treading a path through the snowy grounds of Hogwarts, his cloak blistered with ice. However, underneath his robes, inside the very cavity of his chest, was a burning desire to return to the castle as quickly as possible. Just one more night, he told himself, and he would be back to claim the tiny treasure buried beneath the tousled sheets of his bed.

To be continued….

* * *

**Comments**

Elaine Lahey: I am a little burnt out. But I hope to obtain some sort of balance between work and my personal projects. I have strayed from writing for too long, it's becoming difficult to get back into it. I need a vacation, or at least some time to myself. Thank you for reading.

Queen of the Sacred Flames: Thank you. I was concerned it might be too dark, and yet I did not stretch it as far as I had planned. It was difficult to paint such a horrific picture of Snape and, at the same time, keep him attractive. If you still love him, then I have accomplished my goal. I hope this new post adds some closure to the previous cliffhanger.

Jonquillejaune: to answer your questions, yes, that was the same green armchair. And, no, that was not Narcissa pleasuring Lucius; however, he was married at the time. The girl was a muggle under the Imperius Curse: a toy, if you will.

Actually, I have begun an original piece. But, like everything, it has been put on hold. I think I may have too many projects going and not enough time to get them done. I would love to make a career out of writing but reality keeps getting in the way, you know? It might happen one day. A girl can dream!

Shadow of Jyuunishi: Wow! Thank you. I work hard to get the emotions just right. Relationships are about feelings, not just events written on paper. I can't imagine a love affair with Severus Snape being anything less than difficult and heart breaking. He has too many issues to overcome before he can fully open himself up to another person. Claira is slowly chiseling away his walls, but it is still going to take a great deal of effort to ever break completely through. It will take a miracle… or a tragedy.

Greyfalcon: Yes, it is all about ups and downs. Thank you for reading.

Animagious-White-Tiger: If you read the books, you will see that James was a very arrogant and mischievous teenager. He was a bully. We find that out in book 5. So, I would think my depiction is pretty accurate to cannon. If you get the chance, you should really read the books, they are fantastic, and very different to the films - well, not completely, but the films leave out so much information, events and back story. Thank you for taking the time to review.

Oh, and Remus muttered private words in regard to his disbelief about James's claim, knowing that Lily would never act in such a lewd manner. Basically, James was lying to boast his ego and get at Snape.

Mark Darcy: Thank you for understanding. The problem I had, as a beginner, was my inability to explain things properly, and also neglecting to explain things that I understood but didn't realize the reader wouldn't. Hopefully I have corrected that aspect of my writing. I give tons of credit to my beta, Run Wild.

DreamMakerLady: You are right on with the plot and general flow of the story. I think we all agree that there is hidden potential there. That is the lure of Snape. He just needs a good, patient woman to bring it out. Thank you for reading. And sorry the posts take so long.

Satish Goel: This website has a rating system. It is the responsibility of the parent, not the writer, to monitor their child's activities. This story is properly rated and posted in the correct category. This story is not intended for children: I have posted warnings at the beginning of each chapter that contains adult content. I hope parents are being responsible with what they allow their children to read.

Jade Shintz: I had planned to post a conclusion much sooner. But it just didn't happen. And now I am so overwhelmed with work, I don't know when I will find the time to write again. I am much aggrieved by this, but in life you got to do what is beneficial for your family. I hope to get back to writing soon. I have already begun the second part to this chapter, so hopefully it won't take me ages to finish. Thanks for reading.

FireValkyrie: It is nice owning my own home, but there is so much more involved with paperwork and filing and permits - it's madness! I am glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope this put your mind to rest. I hated leaving an open cliffhanger like that and not knowing when the next post will come. I do apologize for the wait and the shortness of this new chapter. If I could write fulltime and work partime, life would be sweet.

Carole: Thank you for sticking up for me. Don't worry; another lemon chapter is coming soon. Actually, the next chapter is entirely dedicated to, dare I say, sex and fulfillment. Of course, it will be short lived. But it is essential to the plot, and their relationship. Stay tuned!

Run Wild: I just love you! We have talked already. Thank you for reviewing.

Sammy-b: Thank you! Keep reading.

Sportzjunkie: Beautifully said! I am, as always, amazed at your deep understanding of Snape's character. Sorry about the wait. Life is a mess right now. But once I get it back in order, I will dedicate my time to finishing this story. I can't believe you have stuck with me for so long. I hope you are still here at the story's end. Thank you.

Anita: Thanks for reading and reviewing. It means a lot.

TessaCilory: Thank you!

DogDemon-4-life: I don't deserve such praise, but thank you nonetheless. The more reviews the merrier.

Platinumphoenix58: I deserved that. Sorry it took so long.

Anonymous: Don't worry; you will know how the story ends one way or another. However, I plan to finish it completely one of these days. I cannot guarantee when, though. Thank you for the kinds words.

Tmir: LOL. I really am not neglecting this story on purpose. I promise.

Generation Vexed: Thank you!

Stepmom97: Thank you for coming to my aid with that degrading review. They always sting a little, but thanks to comments like yours I am able to pull out of it with my head held high. I am truly sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed this piece, even though it is short. I figured you would rather have something than nothing at all. Thank you for reading and leaving feedback.

Queen Beth: I was worried readers would abandon my story after HBP. But I am pleasantly surprised to find that my readers are still just as eager to continue reading as I am to write. More and more evidence is coming out about Snape's actions being more heroic than sinful. I have a theory, but cannot share it here. But there are some great forums out there that support Snape during these troubled times. I hope he pulls out of it in one piece. Thanks for reviewing.

**A special thanks to everyone for taking the time to leave feedback!**


	36. An Invitation for Chaos

Chapter: 36

**An Invitation for Chaos**

Severus arrived at the kitchen door moments before sunlight crept over the horizon. He shook the snow off his cloak and boots, and stepped inside, easing the door closed behind him. When he spun around, he nearly bumped noses with Jacob, who was dressed in a putrid pink nightshirt and matching slippers.

Jacob flashed him a grin. When he opened his mouth to speak, his rancid morning breath caused Severus to blanch. "So, tell me, who is she?"

"Who is who?" Severus growled, pushing past him. He poured himself a steaming mug of black coffee and, keeping his back to Jacob, brought it to his frozen lips.

"Don't play coy with me!" said Jacob. He held up a fist and flicked his thumb in the air. "Firstly, I've seen you leave the manor in the dead of night, on at least two occasions, with my own eyes - don't you try to deny it! And now, here you are returning at all hours of the morning, obviously having been out on the prowl again." His index finger sprung up to mark his second accusation. "Secondly, you've sprouted a bloody conscience! I tell you, what man turns down a ménage à trios with two gorgeous demimondes: a man who's got himself shackled round the ankles by some silly chit, that's who!" His middle finger flew up in the air just as Severus set his cup down and spun about to face him. "Thirdly, you've been bouncing about the manor on your heels like a giddy school boy who has just taken his first lick of a lollypop. I'm no fool, Severus. I'm on to you!"

Severus's expression remained stolid as he scrutinized Jacob from across the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest. After a moment of silence, he spoke, "Even if it were true, which it is not, you have no proof to back up your claims, Jacob. Now, run along and play before your presence irritates me any further than it already has done."

"As far as mother is concerned, my word is proof enough," Jacob smirked. "However, I might be inclined to keep my lips sealed if you were to, say, give me the girl's name? She must be something special indeed if she has managed to charm the head serpent of Slytherin himself," he laughed. "I must know who she is."

"I do not respond well to people who threaten me. You should know that by now, dimwit." Severus inspected the tips of his fingers, his lips now a thin, pallid line. "You should also know how disheartened mother would be if she were to find out her precious boy had smuggled in a sextet of whores under her very nose."

Jacob's eyes widened. He then let out a chuckle and performed a theatrical bow. "Touché! However, dear brother, it's your word against mine. Do you honestly think mother would believe you over me? I think we both know better than that. All I need do is deny it. Be that as it may, I am willing to call it a truce for now. Keep your secrets if you must - "

"Secrets? And what secrets might those be?" a voice hissed.

Severus's face paled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway. " There are no secrets, mother. Jacob is being foolish."

"Foolish, you say?" Her eyes scanned the damp splotches on his clothes, and soon came to rest on his travel cloak. "Where have you been?"

He did not blink. "Out for a walk."

"Is that so?" she muttered, her eyes narrowing into slits. They quickly fell upon Jacob. "Is this true?"

Jacob smiled and rose to greet his mother with a kiss. His eyes darted to Severus, and he winked. "Yes, mother. I saw him walking along the outskirts of the east wing earlier this morning. I do believe he has taken an interest in our dear neighbor's daughter. The Ravensdales, aren't they? I hear they are quite wealthy and renowned in the wizarding community. Can't say I've ever met them though."

Severus flashed him a murderous glare.

"Indeed?" his mother inquired, her mouth stretching into an odd shape that was neither a scowl nor a smile. "Good. I have invited them to dinner this evening. You," she said, poking her finger in Severus's direction, "no garden work for you today. I want you to clean yourself up. Take all day if you must, but I want you presentable by nightfall. With any luck, the Ravensdales might consider accepting a dowry for their daughter. She may well be too pretty for you, but at least your inheritance will close the distance between your ages. God knows you have failed miserably in finding your own wife to wed."

"A dowry?" Severus choked. "What nonsense is this? You will do no such thing! The Ministry of Magic no longer sanctions betrothals." His voice rose to a near shout. "I would sooner tie a noose around my neck than allow you to - "

"Don't you take that tone with me!" his mother cried. "For your information, not all Marital Decrees have been struck from law. Yes, the Ministry no longer enforces Decrees Number Five through to Twelve. However," her voice lowered to one reciting a declaration. "Wherein the legal heir to an estate is unsuccessful in appropriating a befitting spouse, of noble bloodline or equal to, but not lesser than, the estate holder's lineage, Marital Decree Number Thirteen herein grants the said heir's lawful guardian undisputable right to elect a spouse of his/her choosing; however, elected spouse must be in accordance with the restrictions set forth in line one of the decree. Furthermore, the said heir must meet, or surpass, the Ministry's selected age of forty-seven."

"Your memory, as ever, does you credit, Mother," said Severus, grimacing.

Her mouth curved into a wry smile. "So, you see, I may actify the decree if I so choose."

"I am not yet of age, not by nine years," Severus snarled.

"Oh, but one day you will be," she growled. "And I will see to it you produce an heir, even if it means requesting the decree be set forth in my will. Pray you secure a wife of pure wizarding blood before my death; else you will prize the parchment that seals your wedded fate from my cold, dead, withering hand."

Her eyes, like two black stones, bored into Severus. He became paralyzed by his own rage, and could only watch through a sliver of his eyelids as his mother took his brother's arm and led him out of the kitchen. Jacob glanced back at him, an uncharacteristic expression of compassion upon his face, before disappearing through the doorway.

**Later that evening...**

At seven o'clock, in front of an oval, elongated mirror, Severus stood fastening his cufflinks and sneering at his grim reflection. His robes were woven from the finest threads galleons could buy, provided of course by his own earnings, but his well-groomed appearance was merely a façade. He had no intention of courting the silly Ravensdale girl. Furthermore, he had no intention of bowing down to his mother's threats. He had his own plans for the evening. The outcome of which, if orchestrated just so, would end in his favor.

His mother may have won her little battle, but he would win the war.

When the doorbell rang to signal the guests' arrival, Severus corrected his posture, smoothed down what little creases were left in his robes and advanced to the entrance hall. Jacob was the first to the door. Ever the gracious host, he introduced himself and welcomed inside the Ravensdale women, mother and daughter, with a gentle kiss to the back of each of their hands; however, his lips engaged in a far more affectionate journey across the young maiden's ivory knuckles.

The girl was indeed attractive, Severus observed in a brisk glance as he reached the bottom of the staircase. She was thin-framed, graced with long blonde hair and high cheekbones, and her manner was one of disciplined elegance. However, he attributed most of his complimentary thoughts to her youth and affluent upkeep. Her attractiveness held only a flicker of charm when compared to Claira's beauty. Still, the girl's appearance was a potential distraction if he were not careful with his wine intake. His future was now on the line; that being so, he had little room for error. He acknowledged her with a polite nod, but kept his distance.

Mr. Ravensdale was the last to enter. A robust man, wrapped in over-embellished garments, he stepped past the two women, past Jacob's outstretched hand, and bowed before their hostess, who had suddenly appeared as if out of thin air. "Madam Snape! Always a pleasure."

"Yes, it is." She presented her hand to him, which he brought to his lips. "I see you've already met my son Jacob." Her eyes darted in Severus's direction. "But what about the other one?"

All eyes turned to gaze at the tall stranger looming in the corner.

Severus stepped forward. "Thank you, mother, for that flattering introduction." He extended his hand to Mr. Ravensdale. "Severus Snape. As I understand it, you and your family are the Ravensdales, correct?"

"Please, call me Henry. We are neighbors, after all." He patted Severus on the shoulder and, grabbing hold, steered him towards his wife. "This is my lovely wife, Margery."

Wife she may be, lovely she was not. Severus held back a sneer as she raised her hand to his chin. "Pleasure," he murmured, barely brushing his lips across her crumpled skin.

"And this," Henry boasted, sweeping Jacob aside, "is our precious daughter, Evelyn. Evelyn, darling, say hello to Sever- "

"I heard him clearly, father." The curl in her ruby red lips rose to a peak height of repulsion as her eyes made their way from Severus's boots to his face. She then thrust her knuckles forward, dangling her fingers in front of his nose.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "How do you do?" He turned back to Mr. Ravensdale. "Might I interest you in an aperitif?"

"Yes, of course," Mr. Ravensdale replied, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Severus and his daughter. "Lead the way."

Evelyn lowered her hand and scowled. Her gaze floated back to Jacob, upon whom her eyes softened and began to glisten. It was obvious which man she was attracted to, and which man she was not. Severus allowed himself an inward smile as he escorted them to the study. It came as no surprise to him that she preferred Jacob; he was, after all, what many women considered to be handsome, and his charm was well practiced. However, a wiser woman would have chosen the established, wealthy heir. Suffice it to say, the girl's shallowness had now become an asset to his plans.

Inside the study, Severus set Jacob to the task of serving drinks while their mother and the Ravensdales exchanged pleasantries. Severus melted into the background and kept a close ear to the conversation for any verbal slip-ups which might further his advantage. It was true that the Ravensdales had some degree of notoriety in the Wizarding community, particularly Henry Ravensdale who was the Head of the Committee on Experimental Charms.However, it was a little known fact that he was involved in a money laundering scandal in 1976, which ultimately landed three other members of the committee in Azkaban. Although he had not been convicted of any wrongdoing, it was rumored that Mr. Ravensdale had paid a hefty bribe to several constituents of the Wizengamot in order to avoid prosecution. That, of course, was before Dumbledore took the post of Chief Warlock and put an end to any corruption.

From the ensuing conversation, Severus learnt that Evelyn left Durmstrang four years before, equipped with only a couple of Owls of the minimum pass grade. She had yet to obtain employment of any kind. However, Severus doubted that she was actually looking for work, as Evelyn seemed very much like her mother, determined towards an existence of idleness and luxury. It was no wonder that the Ravensdales were eager to marry her off. With little knowledge and mediocre skills, how else was the girl to survive but to wed a well-to-do heir that banked enough gold to support her lavish lifestyle? Well, he was not going to assume that role. One could only imagine the agony of having to deal with a lazy, conceded, spoilt brat of a wife day after day, night after night. No woman was worth that headache, no matter how young or how beautiful.

The soft chime of the dinner bell was music to Severus's ears. "Why, I do believe our meal has been prepared. Shall we?"

Henry, in a surprising show of agility for his weight, leapt to his feet. "Certainly. Margery, Evelyn - come along dears."

"Right this way."

Severus's mother spared no expense when it came to formal dinner parties, or any other social event for that matter. The dining room was a menagerie of white linen, crystal, porcelain and silver dinning ware. A grand chandelier made of sparkling crystals and emerald colored glass hung above the prodigious table; beneath lay a magnificent tapestry carpet woven with the Snape's family crest.

As they took their seats, Severus made a point to sit directly opposite Evelyn.His mother, of course, sat at the head of the table. Henry sat to the right of her and Jacob took the empty place to her left, which was usually reserved for Severus as he was the eldest son and heir to the estate. This was a violation of Madam Snape's strict standards of etiquette. She cast Severus an eye full of daggers as he took his place further down the hierarchal line, but she said nothing.

There was a moment of silence before the first course, oa lobster bisque, was brought to the table and placed on their service plates by invisible entities. The soup remained untouched until Madam Snape lifted her spoon, then the meal began.

"Simply delicious," Henry purred, dipping his spoon in his bowl to capture the last bite. The others' had barely skimmed the surface of their soup when he had set his utensil down and dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin. "Severus, Madam Snape tells me you are a Professor. Bit odd for a man of your, ah, stature. What exactly is it that you profess?"

Severus shielded his grin behind the rim of his spoon. He had not expected the interview to be launched so soon. At this rate, he would have them gone by dessert. His gaze moved from Henry to his wife and, seizing her stare, said in a cool voice, "Potions."

"Potions? I see. A Professor of Medicine then. You must work on the Board of Directors at St. Mungo's? Fine assembly of men. They have done a brilliant job reorganizing the Division of Research. The Ministry has since opted for new funding programs, which would unite the Department of Experimental Charms, and also allow direct intervention through my committee. I suppose you are a member of the Division of Education there as well?"

"I'm afraid you are incorrect," Severus replied. "I have no ties to St. Mungo's. I teach children, Mr. Ravensdale." He paused to take a long, drawn out sip from his spoon. "I am the Potions master at Hogwarts."

Margery gasped and began to choke on a cube of lobster, which she then coughed back up into her napkin. "You… you are a _school_ teacher?"

Henry's eyes flew back and forth between the appalled expression on his wife's face and the look of rancor on his daughter's. He cleared his throat. "Well, that - that is quite an honorable career, sharpening young minds and teaching the proper ways of magic. Don't you think, Margery? Not a bad quality in a husband either. You must be very fond of children?"

Jacob's hand flew to his mouth. Soup spewed from his nose as he attempted to stifle his laughter.

"Actually," Severus began, his eyebrows pitched, "I happen to find them absolutely detest--"

Madam Snape's spoon hit her bowl with a loud clatter. "Of course he is fond of children, Henry. I can't say children share the same opinion of him, but I can assure you Severus has every intention of starting a family once he has taken a wife." She lifted her salad fork and tapped her wine glass. The soup bowls vanished, and in floated the second course of the meal. "After all, the family's fortune and pureblood lineage must be preserved. An heir is the only way to secure them both. Without one, our gold would be relinquished to the Ministry, and dispersed into those god-awful muggleborn integration programs. No, our fortune has survived for centuries, as well as our purity, and will continue to do so."

The mention of money seemed to perk up Mrs. Ravensdale and her daughter; however, Evelyn appeared squeamish at the talk of children.

Henry's eyes were glistening. "Certainly, certainly. We must not make light the importance of a pureblood marriage. Our families are soon to become a scarce breed of wizard, I'm afraid. A unity between our offspring would be most desirable. Tell me, Severus, what plans do you have for the future?"

Severus's thoughts wheeled as he sneered down at his salad dish. His first attempt at driving the Ravensdale's away had been thwarted by his mother. However, his mind was keen to the task, and he swiftly recuperated. Acute observation was the key to his success. He stabbed at the greens on his plate and plunged them into his mouth.

Aware that he had a piece of lettuce lodged between his teeth, he grinned lasciviously at Evelyn. "Assuming you are referring to your daughter, Henry, I plan to make full use of her as a wife - that is, if you agree to the considerable dowry offered. I see no reason to prolong, as my mother put it, starting a family." His eyes pulled down to her breasts, and he stared as if bestirred by the idea. "Actually, I would begin straight away. Evelyn is, after all, of a favorable childbearing age. I expect her to bear at least four children for me, but ideally seven or eight to properly ensure the continuation of the pureblood line."

Evelyn squealed, "Daddy!"

Her mother shot her a look, and Evelyn quickly covered her mouth with her napkin. Jacob, grinning, pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair, much entertained. No one but Henry noticed the main course arrive.

Madam Snape glared at Severus, her eyes wrathful.

"Now, now, darling," Henry soothed, diving into his fillets of sole roulade. "Let's not be too hasty with our judgments." His daughter quieted at his words, but looked in no way appeased by them. He continued, "Indeed, there has been a tremendous decline in pureblood breeding over the centuries. But surely, Severus, you do not consider it to be such a crisis that you feel the need to, er, over-exercise your marital rights as a husband?"

"I seize opportunity when I see it, Henry," Severus began, staring straight through him. "We both are men. You can hardly hold it against me for wanting to indulge my conjugal prerogative, frequently and voraciously, whenever and however I want."

"My God!" whispered Evelyn in horror, whilst Jacob fought again to stifle another burst of mutinous laughter. Madam Snape's façade was, however, one of glacial calm.

"But surely you would not forcibly take something which was not freely offered to you? Marriage is, after all, a two way thing," Henry persisted.

"I might be old fashioned, but I see a wife as the property of her husband, and therefore subordinate to him. Her wishes, therefore, are irrelevant."

"You mean you would just take something regardless of the other person's feelings, just because you wanted it?"

"Naturally. Wouldn't you? Oh wait, forgive me - of course you would. That much has already been patently illustrated by The Daily Prophet's allegations into your financial corruption and money laundering activities."

"Now, see here, Snape!" snapped Henry, stabbing his fork in the air for emphasis. "I don't know what you're on about, but I assure you my conduct on the Committee has always been one of absolute honor and sincerity." His face turned beetroot red. "I don't give a damn what that blasted tabloid says!"

Mrs. Ravensdale's eyes grew to the size of saucers. She grabbed Henry's arm to calm him, whispering something about manners

"You'll have to excuse my son," said Madam Snape, her voice strained. "I think he may be coming down with something. I hear there is a nasty strain of influenza going around."

"I am perfectly well, Mother," returned Severus, smoothing an imaginary crease in the linen tablecloth. "That is, despite the congenital and now tertiary complaint I picked up in Paris that time…"

"What?" screeched Mrs. Ravensdale, while her husband simply stared at Severus in open-mouthed speechlessness.

"I won't hear anymore of this!" cried Evelyn, rising.

But before she could stand up, Madam Snape was quick to intervene. "Take no notice of my son. He does so like to jest."

"This is hardly a laughing matter," exclaimed Mrs. Ravensdale.

"Indeed it is not," agreed Madam Snape. "Severus, we are at the dinner table. That was in exceedingly bad taste. Apologize this instant."

Madam Snape's eyes bored into him. He held her gaze for a moment, before turning his attention to Evelyn. "Forgive me, Miss Ravensdale. You have nothing to fear on that score. In fact, as my wife, I believe you would be content and certainly very well provided for. The Snape family fortune is, as you undoubtedly know, quite substantial."

The corners of Evelyn's mouth upturned a little, but there was still a look of wariness about her eyes.

"There will be no monetary worries, I can assure you of that," Severus went on. "So, I would not expect you to have to take a job to earn a living."

"As well as I shouldn't," said Evelyn, upturning her nose.

"No, you will have plenty to do around the manor: taking care of all the children, doing the cooking, cleaning and, of course, helping me in my research when the need arises."

"I beg your pardon?" cried Mrs. Ravensdale, casting a worried glance at her daughter's now ashen face.

"You don't think I intend to keep filthy house elves at my residence when I have a wife who would serve just as well?" Severus remarked. "Neither am I willing to spend my share of the fortune on ungrateful servants. The Snapes did not become wealthy by squandering money on unnecessary frivolities."

"My daughter does not do servant work, Mr. Snape. How dare you propose such a thing!" gasped Mrs. Ravensdale.

"Your husband may allow you to laze about all day, in a piteously useless manner," Severus stated, taking another swallow of wine. "But any woman fortunate enough to win my hand in marriage had better do as I say, when I say it and how I expect it to be done, or else she might suddenly find herself doing without even the simplest of life's amenities." His gaze darted to Evelyn, his eyes narrowing. "A man of my authority has no patience for a disobedient wife, and should she be so bold as to try my temper, I will bestow upon her a punishment so severe she would not dare even blink improperly in my presence."

Jacob's mouth fell agape, his grin vanishing.

"Of all the nerve!" Henry dropped his fork onto his empty plate. "I believe we have made our decision, Madam Snape. There will be no marriage between our daughter and that brute son of yours. I have never been so insulted in all my years!" He stood up, and his wife and daughter rose also. "As much as it pains me to abandon an otherwise delightful meal, I feel it is time we took our leave."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What? You won't be tempted by the strawberry millefuille? Looking at you, I would have thought you were rather partial to desserts."

"This is an outrage!" Henry spluttered, marching to the door, followed by his wife and daughter. Madam Snape also rose and hastened after them, issuing pleas and protestations for them to remain.

Severus, unlike his brother, remained seated as they left the room. Jacob was about to follow them into the hall but turned and sat at the table once more, and shook his head at Severus. "I think you may have gone too far this time," he said.

"I hope so," Severus replied.

They sat looking at one another, listening to the departure of the Ravensdales, and then to the slow, angry limp of their mother on the marble hall floor as she made her way back towards the dining room.

The double doors swung open with a mighty bang. Her face was twisted in rage. "How dare you make a mockery of me in front of our neighbors!"

Severus feigned ignorance. "I was nothing less than a gentleman the entire evening -"

"Not another word! You may have wormed your way out of this one, but you will marry. Until you do, you will not pull another sickle from the family vaults." She conjured a parchment and quill, and began scribbling. "As of this moment, your access has been suspended. Step one more toe out of line and I will make it indefinite!"

Severus's lips thinned. He had expected her to retaliate thus. Although he had a vast sum of money in his private account, he was still counting on the family fortune as a nest egg. He knew better than to push her any further, and so remained silent.

"Mother," Jacob said softly, "don't you think you are being a bit harsh -"

"This doesn't concern you, Jacob," she said stiffly, whilst folding and sealing the note. "Please, be a dear and walk me to the owlry. Severus, I want you gone by morning. I can't stand to look at you another moment."

Severus sneered at her back as she exited the dinning room. He had got what he wanted out of the evening, but at what price? Not only was he being forced to marry before his forty-seventh birthday, he was now stripped of the family assets. Downing the rest of the wine in his glass, he flung it aside and rose from the table. At least he had Hogwarts to look forward to, and a day earlier than he had anticipated.

Inside his room, he began to pack his things. There was no use waiting until the next morning to depart, not when he could be back at Hogwarts by midnight and in his own bed for some much needed rest. He had already decided not to make his return known to Claira; as much as he desired to be near her, he knew his body could not endure another sleepless night. Besides, he now had the entire weekend free to romance her. But the thought of seeing her again, just the mere whisper of her name, was enough to put his mind at ease. Suddenly, the future didn't seem quite as bleak.

Stuffing his clothes into his suitcase, he snapped the lid shut, and peered through the window to check the weather conditions. The grounds were covered with snow, but the sky was still and quiet, fair for traveling. Just as he was about to turn away, he saw a cloaked figure dart across the field and over the hedges that divided the Ravensdale's neighboring property. It ducked behind a tree and waited. A few moments later, another cloaked figure of feminine proportions crept out of the shadows near the manor and made a mad dash for the tree. The two figures joined and stole away into the night.

Severus snorted and moved away from the window, wondering how long Jacob and Evelyn had been at it. He should have known the old dog had already sniffed out the new bitch next door. That would explain their deliberate avoidance of conversation and eye contact with each other at the dinner table. Well, there was another little scandal of the Ravensdales' waiting to be swept under the rug.

Dousing the light, and as silent and tranquil as the winter night, he took his leave.

**The next morning...**

"Claira."

"Hmm?"

"Claira."

"No more, please. I've had enough Chocoballs, thank you."

"Wake up, you silly girl!"

Claira blinked her eyes open, and saw two black, gleaming eyes staring at her not four inches from her face. She screamed and flayed her arms about, striking blindly at the sudden explosion of sunlight in her eyes.

Severus dodged her attack and scrambled off the bed. "It's me. Stop - stop that, I say!"

"Severus?" Claira squeaked, shielding her eyes from the sun to get a better look. She then threw a pillow at him. "Are you mental? What do you mean sneaking in here like that? I thought you were - how did you get in here anyway?"

"Through the door," he said. "Now, get out of bed and dress. You look a mess."

"Had I known you were coming, I might have fixed my hair," she returned, rolling her eyes. "What areyou doing here? You weren't due back until tomorrow."

"I thought you might have been glad to see me sooner," he frowned, peeling the covers off her. "Needless to say, I've had a sudden change of plans. You and I are to now share the weekend away from Hogwarts."

His eyes followed her as she climbed out of bed, and he grinned at the sight of her white lace panties peeking from beneath her silk nightgown. A familiar stir arose in his trousers, and he could hardly bear not to wrestle her back down onto the mattress.

"I _am _glad to see you. Don't be absurd." She slid off the bed and into his arms, planting butterfly kisses on his lips and cheeks. "But, where are we going? I can't just leave the Infirmary unattended."

"I've already spoken to Dumbledore: Madam Pomfrey is to remain at Hogwarts. She decided she is most needed here at the castle," he explained, whilst steering her towards the wardrobe. "Dumbledore granted me permission to borrow you with the understanding that you are to assist me in my research."

Claira began to rummage through her wardrobe, and selected a red sweater and jeans. "You speak of me as if I am an object that can be passed around." She turned to him, her expression serious. "You know, a gentleman would ask a lady to come away with him, rather than demand it."

A scowl threatened to form on Severus's face, but he fought against it; it would not do well to upset her, when he had so precious little time left to extract all from her that he could.

After a pause, he performed a slight bow, and said in a knightly voice, "I would be most delighted if you would come away with me, O' beauteous Lady Claira. If you say no, I should likely toss myself out of your window."

Claira laughed. "You are impossible! Just give me a few minutes to wash and dress."

The moment she closed the bathroom door, Claira covered her mouth with her hands and squealed in excitement. She flung off her nightgown and knickers, and hopped into the shower, not waiting for the water to warm before scrubbing down with scented soap. After rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, she sprang for the sink and brushed her teeth, water splashing about the floor in small puddles. She could hardly believe he was there, asking to whisk her away on some romantic endeavor. A voice of warning buzzed in her ear at his sudden, if not drastic, change in demeanor, but her heart quickly swatted it away. Severus was at last opening up to her, and she going to do everything in her power to encourage him.

Stepping back out into the room, now fully dressed, she caught Severus trying to blast the lock open on her suitcase.

She smirked. "Stop that! You can't open it by force. It's got a combination lock."

"Well, what is the pass code then?" he said, tucking his wand into his coat pocket.

"I'm not telling," she teased. "It's a secret."

Turning the suitcase away from him on the bed, she unlocked it and began emptying the contents of the dresser drawers into it.

Severus checked his pocket watch. "We'll only be away for two days. How many outfits do you need? Besides, it is not as if you'll be wearing much whilst we are there."

Claira made a face at him. "I thought you told Dumbledore I would be assisting you with research," she grinned. "And where is _there _exactly?"

"You keep your secrets," he said, helping her to squeeze the lid closed on her suitcase, "and I shall keep mine."

He carried her luggage to the door, and held it open for her.

"Where is your suitcase?" she asked, putting on her coat.

"I have no need of one," he replied. "Unlike you, I prefer to travel light."

Claira walked beside him out of the castle and across the snowy grounds, her fingers and toes tingling - not because she was cold, but because she was ecstatic to be going with him, no matter where it was he was taking her.

At the entrance gate, Severus switched her suitcase into his left hand and pulled his wand out with his right. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he whispered in her ear, "Put your arms around me."

She wound her arms about his shoulders and trembled; every inch of her body felt charged. "I'm ready."

He pulled her tightly against him and kissed her mouth, slow and easy, letting her passion fill his body with warmth; it was just a small taste of the pleasure to come. His wand began to glow, and as he withdrew from her soft lips he murmured, "Snape Manor."

A strong wind swept over them, and they held on to each other as the spinning force carried them away.

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**Author's note:** _I thought it would be fun this time to hear your theories on how you think this story might end. So, feel free to speculate in your review. Thank you for reading!_

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Queen of the Sacred Flames: I almost made you cry? I must try harder next time! I will have you balling before this story is done, muwahahaha! Thanks for returning time and time again. I hope you enjoyed this new piece.

Ultrahotpink: Gasp! You stopped reading Snape fanfiction? Book six hit a lot of Snape fans hard, but I am convinced there is more to the story than meets the eye. I shall remain loyal to the last. I hope you come back to read the rest of my fic. You have been with me so long - I'd hate for you to miss the end of it.

Stepmom97: I can always count on you to give me that extra push whenever I feel like giving up. After so long, I fear that no one cares about my story anymore. It is so hard to find the time to write. But you are there each and every time I feel down to remind me that there is at least one person out there waiting for a new chapter. Thank you for that. As for your question, I plan to stick with my original storyline. I have written through two Harry Potter books so far, so I definitely fall into the AU category. It is too late to change now. I hope this new chapter was worth the wait. The next one will be a real treat for all those who love to see Snape's charm set to full throttle. I can't wait to write it!

Animagious-White-Tiger: Snape harbors deep feelings for Claira, but his selfish ambitions are misguiding him. He doesn't quite yet realize that the key to happiness is right at his fingertips; he keeps reaching past her for some higher goal - that goal being an admirable position in the Ministry of Magic. He is seeking power. And that higher power, harvested by narrow-minded, prejudice leaders, is only given to purebloods. As much as he may care for her, Snape still sees Claira as a possible threat to his future. If the Ministry found out about his relationship with a Muggleborn, they would snub him. So, he plans to keep her hidden, until the day he is awarded the Order of Merlin when he then will break it off with her, as his public profile would become too crucial to hold onto her any longer. Will Claira's love be strong enough to change his mind? Will he ever realize that love is the greatest power of all? Keep reading to find out!

Shadow of the Jyuunishi: The tearjerker chapters are soon to come. I don't think any ending involving Snape would be all rainbows and sunshine, more like vapor and cloudy skies! But, you never know; things might work out in the end. I'm glad to see you are still reading my story. Thank you so much for the review. I can't believe you reread the entire story - it must have taken you ages!

Jade Shintz: Wow, and I thought five months was long! I am shooting for five more chapters, and then it should be complete. But they had better be five long chapters, as I have a lot more story left to tell. I think it is time to start drawing it to a close though. Once book seven comes out, I may lose a lot of readers as the Harry Potter craze fizzles out. I just hope Rowling does Snape justice in this next one. Thanks for reading.

West Dean: I hope you returned to read this next installment. I am going to try and hurry up with the next one, but then again I always say that. Life is hard to predict, you know. Thanks for the feedback.

Us Two Squibs: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Sportzjunkie: Alright, I'll admit it - I want someone to cry at least once before this story is done! That was a beautiful review. I am always amazed when I read your feedback of just how in touch you are with Snape's character. If something should ever happen to me, God forbid, I bet you could easily guess the outcome of this story based on what you know of him. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to review. I hope this new one doesn't disappoint. It is not the most romantic chapter I have written, but this subplot is important to the story and places an impact on Snape's decisions in the future. But, in all, the next chapter is a goody.

Tribblelet: You are awesome too! Thanks for reading.

SevyHero: Yes, he is at it again. There are so many layers to him, and Claira has only managed to cut through a few of them. Snape is confused and conflicted. He wants the best of both worlds but can only choose one of them. So many people in his life have let him down. If anything, he is wary of getting too close to her. He has been made to believe that happiness can only be had if he creates it for himself. Let us hope Claira can break through and reach his heart in time before he makes the biggest mistake of his life.

Koibito: Great analysis! I think you've got it. It's always good to hear from you. Thanks for the feedback.

LJShay: Thank you!

Darkmistwolf1991: Your comment made me laugh. Cool name!

Isabelle: I want to have this done before the final book comes out. But I don't think that will be possible. I am going to try though. Thanks for reading.

Jelly Bean: Yeah. That was one of my biggest problems: the dreaded tenses. I did not have a beta back then, or anyone to help me write. But through some good fortune, I met Run Wild who really taught me just about everything there is to know about writing. My work has improved so much since then, and hopefully the tense problem has been solved. I am currently rewriting the entire story on Occlumency, so if you are interested in rereading a far better version visit Sycophant Hex.

RebeccaDeWinter: My best friend throughout childhood was named Rebecca! I'm glad you are enjoying this story.

Hapott: Be prepared for long waits between chapters. Hopefully it is worth it though. Thanks for reading.

Lilly Granger: Still not sure what list you are referring to, but thank you so much for reading my story, and also for taking the time to review.

AntiqueSong: I do plan to finish it. It just takes me a long time to write new chapters. Sorry! I'll try to write faster next time. Thanks for reading.

Queen Beth: Your comment made me giggle. Thank you for leaving feedback. I would have abandoned this story ages ago if it weren't for readers like you. Hope this new one is up to standards.

**Here's an extra special 'thank you' to all who take the time to leave feedback! **


	37. A New Beginning

**Note to Readers:** Yes, I am guilty! I am sorry for such a long wait, and that I have been neglecting this story. To be honest, I have lost my touch. Every time I pull up the screen to write my mind shuts down, almost as if it refuses to go on. So much has happened since my last posting, and do to a recent medical condition that is quickly consuming my life right now, I fear I may never return. That is not to say that I will not. So, I have decided to post what I have written so far. It is not much, but it solves a little mystery I left you with last chapter. Also, please read the special note I left for you at the end.

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Chapter: 37

**A New Beginning **

Claira was ambushed by a ferocious, deafening wind the moment her toes touched the icy ground. Squinting her eyes, she braced herself for the second gust, which smelt and tasted of the salty sea. The freezing weather was almost unbearable. Severus still had his arm wrapped around her, but he had dropped her suitcase and was leaning against a tall, brass gate, gripping the thin bars for support. He looked almost too weak to stand.

Claira wriggled out of his hold and pressed her numb fingers to his cheek. "Severus, are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine," he sputtered, clutching his chest. "It takes a great deal of strength to apparate two bodies over a long distance." He paused to catch his breath. "I'm no longer the vigorous young man I once was."

"Don't be ridiculous," Claira said, helping him to stand. "Thirty-eight is quite young for a wizard."

Severus gave her a sideways glance, and snorted, "You are kind."

Peering through the bars of the gate, Claira could see bricks the color of brimstone peeking out between the clustered branches of at least a dozen ash trees. The trees, as well as several tall evergreen bushes resembling massive snowballs, appeared to be strategically planted to hide the bulk of the house. It was impossible to determine the size of the manor, or what it even looked like, without stepping back several yards.

"So, where are we anyway?"

Flattening his clothes with his palms, he answered, "We are on the North Yorkshire Coast, in a village named Ravenscar. Turn around, you silly girl! You are missing the view."

Spinning around, Claira's breath caught in her throat. She was standing on the top of a great hill, looking down at smaller, snow-dusted hills that dropped off into a raging, misty blue-grey sea. Above, the sky was a tranquil palette of deep blues and purples, with a soft streak of scarlet spanning the rocky landscape. In the far distance, houses looking like toy models perched on little mounds gave out trails of white smoke from their chimney pots.

Severus calmly crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "That, my dear, is the North Sea. There is a small path leading down to the water's edge."

"Severus, it's so beautiful."

He grinned into her hair. "Over there are the ruins of the old Peak Alum Works. It was the first British chemical producing company, established by Muggles in the early seventeenth century. They used the alum to fix the dye in woolen cloth, along with a mixture of toasted seaweed and stale human urine."

Claira pulled a face.

"Unpleasant and primitive, but effective," added Severus, noting her disgust. "If you decide to explore the area, take heed. The ruins are home to a colony of Imps who take immense pleasure in tripping up unsuspecting tourists, as well as throwing fish carcasses at them."

"I'll keep that in mind," Claira chuckled. "It's strange. I never took you as one who would enjoy being by the sea." She sighed and leaned her head back against his shoulder. "There is still so much I don't know about you."

"I am not as great a mystery as you may think," he said, nudging her ear with his lips. "I have never set foot in the water. "But, that is not to say I do not hold an appreciation for the earth's natural beauty. Besides, as you have correctly assessed, this is the last place anyone would think to look for me. I am at peace here."

His eyes roamed the land. "There is naught much else to look at, except perhaps Robin Hood's Bay which is beyond walking distance. I can take you there if it pleases you, but I would not advise you to go alone. A band of dark wizards have congregated in the village, and they have been causing a substantial amount of trouble of late. The Ministry of Magic has intervened, but I do not trust the Aurors have captured them all."

He felt her shiver, and pulled her closer to him. "There is no need to worry about intruders; the property is heavily warded. We are quite alone here. Now, come inside and let us get settled."

He led her to the entrance gate and tapped his wand on a lock with a large keyhole, much like he did with the doors to his chambers at Hogwarts.

Claira, meanwhile, had spotted a rectangular sign mounted on the brass bars. Her fingers traced the words 'Snape Manor' as she whispered them aloud. "Is this your family's home?"

"My family live elsewhere," he snapped. "This is my own independent residence. I can support myself without any help from them!"

Severus felt her stiffen beside him. He immediately regretted his harsh tone. Taking a deep breath, he turned to her. "Forgive me," he said, gently.

Claira colored, but she smiled up at him.

Taking her arm in his, he led her through the gate towards the house. "As I was saying, this is my private estate. I commissioned it some eight years ago. It has been wand-built from the ground up following my meticulous specifications and design plans. As you might have guessed, I am extremely exacting, some might even say 'nit-picky,' when it comes to my personal needs."

Claira's eyebrow rose slightly at his last remark but she politely said nothing. Instead, she took in the three-story manor as it came into view. It was gothic in design with its pointed arched windows, high gables and slender stone piers, but it also had a modern feel that defied its mediaeval architectural origins. The construction was precise and organized, consisting of strait, bold, horizontal lines, intricate patterns and perfect symmetry throughout. With the exception of the dull, sulfur-colored exterior, it was a work of art. The house itself bore a strong likeness to Severus; hauntingly gorgeous and yet, in some respects, dark and forbidding.

"It's, erm, lovely."

"Lovely? Really?" he said, using his wand and a magical key to open the front door. "Then I have failed miserably in its design. You see, there is a cloaking charm over the entire property to secret it from Muggles. As it is not hidden from magical beings, I had hoped its grim and imposing outward appearance would deter curiosity."

"Oh, well, in that case," she grinned, "the color is quite ghastly."

His mouth pulled into a frown as he pushed the door open. "Actually, I quite like the color. In fact, it was the only liberty I took with the exterior of the house."

Claira buried her face in her hands when he turned his back to her. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him, especially after he had been so kind as to invite her into his home. She would find a way to make it up to him later, she thought. For now, she was eager to explore his domain.

* * *

**Special Note: I do not know when or if I will ever be able to finish this story. Even if I were to start today, it would not come to its completion for another year, maybe two. So, I have decided to write a synopsis. It might take me a few weeks, but it will begin with the remainder of this chapter and then each chapter following - including the ending. That way, if I never have a chance to return, at least you will have closure. **

**A big thanks to all who have read, and continue to read, my little story. The past years have been wonderful. I love you all. Take care.**


	38. A New Beginning Part 2

**I know I said I was going to write a synopsis; however, once I began it, I realized I had written almost an entire chapter's worth summarizing the chapter! And so here I am again, with a new installment. **

**Please note: This chapter contains adult content and sexual material. Not to be read by anyone under age. **

**Extra Note: This chapter has not been edited. It is somewhat in rough draft form. My editor is ill, and I do not want to trouble her with it right now.**

* * *

_Recap from Previous Chapter:_

_Claira's eyebrow rose at his last remark but she politely said nothing. Instead, she took in the three-story manor as it came into view. It was gothic in design with its pointed arched windows, high gables and slender stone piers, but it also had a modern feel that defied its mediaeval architectural origins. The construction was precise and organized, consisting of strait, bold, horizontal lines, intricate patterns and perfect symmetry throughout. With the exception of the dull, leaden-colored exterior, it was a work of art. The house itself bore a strong likeness to Severus; hauntingly gorgeous and yet, in some respects, dark and forbidding. _

_"It's, erm, lovely."_

_"Lovely? Really?" he said, using his wand and a magical key to open the front door. "Then I have failed miserably in its design. You see, there is a cloaking charm over the entire property to secret it from Muggles. As it is not hidden from magical beings, I had hoped its grim and imposing outward appearance would deter curiosity."_

_"Oh, well, in that case," she grinned, "the color is quite ghastly."_

_His mouth pulled into a frown as he pushed the door open. "Actually, I quite like the color. In fact, it was the only liberty I took with the exterior of the house."_

_Claira buried her face in her hands when he turned his back to her. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him, especially after he had been so kind as to invite her into his home. She would find a way to make it up to him later, she thought. For now, she was eager to explore his domain. _

* * *

**A New Beginning (Part: 2)**

He paused in the doorway, then stepped aside to allow her full scope of the foyer. She stood transfixed. The inside greatly contrasted the outside in nearly every way except for the subtle hints of gothic architecture. Although his home was not exactly a grand mansion in size, he spared no expense on the interior design and furnishings. The floors were covered with fine marble, hand-carved trimmings and tapestries lined the walls, and expensive antique rugs covered the walkways. Looking all around, Claira caught a glimpse of an original painting or a rare sculpture that begged to be admired; there was so much to see, and she had barely made it through the door!

"Oh, Severus, this is… this is amazing!"

Turning his back to her, he flashed a wide, toothy grin at the door and clicked it shut behind them. "Thank you."

He tucked his smile away before facing her again. Setting her suitcase on the floor, he snapped his fingers and waited. Claira opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but immediately closed it when a young, wide-eyed house elf appeared out of thin air. To Claira's great surprise, she was wearing a white and pink polka dot dress with a pink ribbon tied in a bow around her waist.

"Master Snape!" it squealed. "Pinky is not knowing you is coming, sir. And with a mistress, sir! Master Snape is never bringing one of his mistresses to Pinky before - "

"Hush, Pinky," Snape snarled. "Take this suitcase upstairs."

"Yes, sir." Pinky wobbled over to the suitcase and picked it up. "To the guest room, sir?"

Severus lowered his gaze to her. "No, to my bedchamber. For the remainder of our stay you will not disturb us when we are in there, understand?"

Claira blushed at his words, a tingling heat rising in her chest at the thought of what he might have planned for her: although the fact that it involved the privacy of his bedroom gave her a good idea!

"I'll expect routine meals throughout the day," he continued. "I'll also expect them to be your finest. Furthermore, you will provide Miss Bell with anything she asks for. The cost is of no importance to me and neither do I wish to be consulted every time she makes a request. Assume my approval and leave the expense tickets on my desk. Off with you now."

The house elf gave a deep bow, her nose brushing the floor. "Pinky will do as Master asks, sir. Pinky is glad Master Snape is home, sir!"

Grinning, the house elf disappeared with the suitcase in a pop.

"Your bedchamber?" Claira smirked. "I suppose we'll be sharing a bed then?"

Severus stepped towards her, his eyebrow raised. "I thought you might get frightened sleeping alone in a strange house. I only had your comfort in mind."

"Mmm," Claira hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Is that all you had in mind?"

He pulled her body against his and cupped her face. "Among other things."

"What other things?" she cooed.

He chortled into her hair. "I had hoped to spare your already reddened cheeks another blush, however since you insist…" His hands moved over her body, while his lips traced her jawbone to her earlobe. "I have every intention of shagging you this weekend as often and long as my strength and time allows."

Claira could feel the warmth rise to her cheeks. "Oh."

"I warned you," Severus purred, capturing her mouth for a kiss.

A surge of electricity passed between them the instant their lips touched, charging their bodies with such profound heat the foyer melted around them. It was incredible how a simple kiss had the power to deliquesce time.

"Unfortunately," he said, pulling away moments later, his voice carrying a light tremor. "I have a few things to attend this morning."

Claira groaned, "I had a feeling you might say that."

"My estate does not run itself, my dear." He pulled out a timepiece from his pocket and studied it. "As you might imagine, I can hardly find the time whilst the school term is in session. Now, dinner is set to five this evening. I shall meet you in the dining room then."

Claira pulled a face, half pout and half stunned. "What am I supposed to do until then?"

"Whatever you like!" He threw up his hands. "Explore. Snoop. Whatever it is you women do when you are left unguarded." His eyes narrowed. "Only this time you have my permission."

Claira felt a sharp stab in her chest as she watched him disappear through a door. She deserved that. Sighing, she spun around and headed in the opposite direction, through a beautiful oak door engraved with leaves and snakes woven through curly vines.

She passed through a sitting room and a small recreation room that harbored a grand piano, and various other rooms that were furnished but looked as though they had never been occupied. Claira began to wonder if there was something to Pinky's exclamation. Perhaps Claira was the only one to ever visit Snape manor! At first this thought gave her a thrill, but then it dawned on her that Severus was a very lonely man, who distanced himself from the few friends he had and a family he did not wish to be near. She frowned as she entered what looked like a miniature museum, where she spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon canvassing the rare pieces of art he had collected.

By midday Claira had wandered into a semi-enclosed garden where numerous herbs and plants were flourishing. Tall stone walls surrounded the garden, but above was opened up to the sky where the wind howled and flecks of snow fell then dissipated into an invisible dome which acted as the roof. Yet thin rays of sunlight filter through, keeping the garden at perfect temperature, helped along by magic.

"A year round garden!" Claira mused. "How lovely."

As Claira followed a pebble path, which twisted through the garden, she heard a slight rustle just ahead of her. Peering over a bevy of belladonna, she spotted Pinky the house elf wearing an apron and garden gloves. She appeared to be digging a hole where she intended to pot a basket of roots which sat nearby.

"Hello, Pinky," Claira smiled.

The house elf's eyes widened and she squealed at the sight of her. "Miss must not see Pinky doing chores! Pinky is bad house elf. Bad! Bad! Master Snape will be displeased!"

She plunged her head inside the hole she had dug and attempted to bury it with the spade she was holding. Claira pushed through the plants and grabbed her by the shoulders. "No, Pinky! It's okay. Please don't do that. I'm sure Severus won't mind. It's not your fault I saw you! I sneaked up on you by mistake."

"Miss is kind, but Pinky is bad house elf! Pinky must not be seen." She shoved her head back into the hole and continued to shovel dirt onto it.

Claira pulled her out once more, this time her voice stern. "Pinky, you must stop this at once! Severus told you to do as I ask, and I am asking you to stop punishing yourself this instant."

The house elf slowly sat up, bits of dirty spilling from her long, pointed nose. "Pinky will do as Miss asks. Pinky is not wanting to disappoint Master Snape. Master Snape is kind master. He let Pinky make her own clothes!" Her eyes glossed over dreamily. "Pinky likes to make her own things. Master Snape says Pinky does not need to wear dirty old pillowcase! Master says Pinky may wear what she likes. And Pinky likes to wear pretty clothes things."

Claira grinned. "Severus can be wonderfully charming when he wants to be. But, Pinky, why aren't you using magic to make those holes? Surely it would be faster?"

"Oh no!" The house elf shook her head feverishly. "No, Master Snape says his garden must be kept with gentle hands. Master says his plants are precious things."

Claira chuckled. "Precious things? Did he really say that?"

Pinky's eyes narrowed, then her bottom lip began to quiver. "Pinky is bad house elf! Pinky is telling Miss Master's secrets! Pinky bad! Pinky must punish herself. Pinky must punish herself where Miss can't see!"

"Pinky, no!" Claira cried, but the house elf had disappeared with a pop.

Shaking her head, she sighed and picked up the small spade. It was her fault the elf had vanished; the very least Claira could do was finish her work. She dug the spade into the moist earth and began to shovel it out.

Later that evening, Claira emerged from a quaint, pearly white washroom and headed towards the dining room where at last she would be able to spend time with Severus.

Her heart thudded against her chest as she pushed through the double doors, unable to hold back a smile. Once she entered, her eyes flickered around the room only to find herself alone and a place setting for one at the end of a long mahogany table. Gone again!

His absence came as a heavy blow. This sojourn was supposed to be their time alone together: an opportunity to work on their relationship and strengthen their bond. With the promise of a second beginning, away from all possible distractions, he had built her hopes up only to let her down again. Well, she had had enough!

"Oh no you don't, Snape!" Claira huffed, the heat now rising to her ears. "I didn't come this far to be set aside like a used salad fork!"

She stormed out of the dining room and into the narrow hallway, and through the door Severus had disappeared through earlier that morning. There was another long corridor with several doors on either side, all of which were closed. Claira opened and peered through each one in turn where she found a library, a laboratory, a research room with a mini supply store and at the very end of the hall, a study.

Claira moved into the room and called his name. Severus was not in there. Rounding his desk, she discovered numerous piles of parchment sorted into different categories ranging from paid accounts to pending bills and other miscellaneous documents that were none of her business. But a damp quill and droplets of ink on one of the scrolls at least confirmed he had been working out his accounts, and also telling the truth.

"Pinky," called Claira. "Pinky!"

The house elf appeared with a tiny pop, wiping her hands on a pink, frilly apron. "Pinky is here."

"Pinky, where is Master Sna - where is Severus?"

Pinky's gaze shifted to the walls and ceiling, as if in fear of being overheard. "Master is gone out, Miss."

"Gone out?" Claira cried. "Where?"

The house elf shook her head so fast her ears flopped. "Pinky is not telling any more of Master's secrets. Pinky is good house elf."

Clenching her fists, Claira took a deep breath to calm her nerves and said in a soft tone, "Pinky, did Severus leave me a message or a note…any_thing_?"

Pinky pressed her long, knobby finger to her lips as if choosing her words. Finally she looked up. "Yes, Master Snape says to tell Miss - if Miss is asking - that he is needing to do something and is coming back shortly."

"Grrrr!" Claira spoke through clenched teeth. "Well, you tell Master Snape that Miss is not pleased and if he wishes to see her she will be in bed _not_ waiting up for him." She paused in the doorway before stomping away, "And I'll take a bowl of soup and biscuit up there while I'm at it, thank you."

It was nearly ten o' clock when Claira gave up peeking out the window and settled down into a blue silk nightgown. In bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin and dimmed the lights, anger and frustration coiling around her heart like a hungry snake. How dare he leave her alone on their first night at the manor! She glared at the vaulted ceiling, attempting to ignore the handsome Victorian bedchamber with its massive black satin bed canopy and romantic dressings.

She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. The plush pillow cradled her face, giving off the scent of fresh sheets and fabric softener. Just on the brink of sleep, Claira heard a light shuffle of boots outside the bedroom door, a soft click, and a whisper.

"Claira?"

She did not respond, choosing instead to turn her back to him and curl up on her other side.

His voice was low and cool. "You are upset with me."

The door snapped shut and there was a loud thud of heavy leather hitting marble, and the shuffle of clothes. The mattress flexed gently as he climbed into bed, and the next moment Claira felt warm breath on her neck and a large hand on her thigh.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "It was… insensitive of me to take leave without giving you notice."

She stiffened, but then began to relax under his trail of kisses from her shoulder to her earlobe. "You… you can't just apologize every time you make a mistake and then expect it to be all right."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

"I agree," he purred, wrapping his arms around her body and drawing her back against his bare chest. His hand moved up her thigh to her hip, and back down to her inner thigh. "Hogwarts was not built in a day, my dear, nor can I magically transform into the man you want me to be… but I am trying, Claira. Please be patient with me. I will do better next time."

Claira sighed and rolled over to face him. "Where were you tonight, Severus?"

He propped his head up on his elbow and stared down at her, his hair spilling forward to curtain his expression. Through the darkness she could see the white of his eyes as they roamed her face and bosom, his fingers moving slyly up her arm to slink under the thin shoulder strap of her gown. "I had a few errands to run, and I didn't want to trouble you with a tedious trip into the village so soon after your arrival. It wasn't my intention to be inconsiderate, if that is what you think."

His head dipped to the mound of her right breast, where his mouth and tongue began to explore her soft flesh. Claira stifled a moan as his hand tugged at her gown and his mouth found her exposed nipple. "Just… just tell me next time okay? I was worried."

"Certainly," he growled, his hand now sliding down to the lip of her panties and beneath them to feel her tighten and shudder. "Whatever you wish."

She could not resist the urge any longer. Claira's hands plunged into his hair and dug into his scalp, drawing him closer to suckle and nip at her breasts. "Oh, Severus."

Groping underneath the sheets, she enclosed her fingers around the rock hard mass digging into her thigh and began to stroke him, relishing in the power to make him grunt and rasp a string of slurs. But his fingers were working their own magic, and they willed her to part her legs further and writhe under his skilled hand.

"I take it I'm forgiven then?"

"Only just," she grinned.

His lips found hers and he moved over her, hands and arms and legs lifting to touch and caress, their bodies becoming entangled beneath the blankets. In moments she was naked and arching into him, his hips pushing between her legs to feed the source of their hunger. Moans and gasps filled the room as they locked together in a flurry of passion. His thrusts were polite at first, but then they increased in speed and gusto as the pleasure between them began to build and spiral out of control. Soon they were tumbling over the mattress, wrestling with each other in a greedy mix of pushing and pulling to reach a climax of hot, sweet release.

The world became a blur and an immense energy began to surge and rise amidst the tension, the same mysterious energy that caused their bodies to ascend and objects to shatter around them during their previous encounters. In his last moments of sanity, Severus lowered his mouth to Claira's ear. "Do not allow it to escape out this time… focus on the pleasure and let it move through your body as I do the same. Together now."

Their heartbeats seemed to synchronize, their breathing and bodies moved in unison as, rhythmically and overwhelmingly, they coursed towards an explosion of pure pleasure.

The final release had intensified ten fold, which left them both quivering and incoherent for several moments.

After a couple failed attempts to find her voice, Claira was the first to speak. "So it was me all along then? Not being able to control the magic my emotions created when we have… well, you know?"

Severus lifted his head from the pillow and eased his weight off her, chortling softly to himself at Claira's inability to say the word _sex_. "Something to that effect, yes. However, I doubt it was you alone. It only just occurred to me that the sensation of your first few orgasms might have caused your body to invoke a magical response - a sort of defensive mechanism, if you will."

A dawn of understanding brightened Claira's eyes. "Which would then have triggered a counter response from you! That would explain the levitation and explosions."

"Not dissimilar from the type of spontaneous magic you may have produced as a child," Severus pointed out while tucking his wand beneath his pillow. " It was just a hunch really."

Claira snuggled up in the crook of his arm. "Do you think it will stop happening in time, if we continue to trap the energy between us?"

"I hope not," Severus grinned. "I found the effect quite stimulating, didn't you?"

"Yes," Claira blushed, "I did."

Their bodies molded together in a warm embrace against the chill that crept into the room. Sleep came almost instantly, a surprise product of joy and overwhelming satisfaction.

* * *

Outside the bedroom door the next morning, Pinky whimpered and paced, her hands struggling to steady her Master's breakfast tray. Through the thick barrier, Pinky could hear her master moaning. He was hurt and needed her help, but Master told Pinky not to disturb him in his bedchamber! She levitated the silver platter and pressed her long ear to the door. The grunting noises were getting louder, and Pinky could hear his mistress cry out. Her Master was gasping for air. She must save her Master!

Raising her hand, Pinky blasted the lock on the door and rushed forward. She saw her master and his mistress unclothed on his bed, the duvet and sheets tossed about. Their arms and legs were tangled together and they were making strange movements and sounds. But Pinky was too late! Her master gave a shout and shuddered, and then he collapsed on top of his mistress. Pinky howled. "Master is killed! Oooooo! Pinky is bad house elf. Pinky did not save her master!"

"What the devil?" Severus sputtered, straining to clear his head and regain the use of his limbs. He rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a crack where is head had hit the corner of the nightstand.

"OOOOoooooo! Master is killed!" Pinky screamed, pounding her head against the wall. "Pinky is bad. Pinky is disgrace - OOOOoooo!"

"Pinky, no! It's okay," Claira begged, tugging at the sheets to cover her nudity. "Severus is not killed. Pinky stop! Severus, do something - "

THUMP!

THUMP!

"OOOOooo - "

"PINKY!" Severus's voice cracked. "I told you not to disturb me in my bedchamber."

The house elf ceased her wailing at once to stare at her master. She began to twist and fold her ears, her bottom lip trembling. "Master is… not killed?"

"No, I'm bloody well not!" He snatched a pillow from the bed and thrust it in front of his hips while his other hand continued to massage the knot on the back of his head. "What are you doing here? I gave you specific instructions not to - "

"Pinky is bringing Master and Miss breakfast. Pinky is hearing strange sounds and… and Pinky is thinking Master is needing Pinky, sir!"

Claira cupped her mouth and looked at Severus. "Severus, she doesn't understand. I don't think she was taught about… that."

His long, sallow face pulled into a tight grimace. "Claira, if you think I going to explain the bloody birds and the bees to a bloody house elf your blinking mad!"

He stood and stalked into his wardrobe where he disappeared.

Pinky began to chew the ends of her ears, wincing in pain and whimpering. "Pinky is bad house elf?"

"YES-"

"No! Pinky, its not your fault," Claira interrupted. "Severus, don't scold her."

She could hear him muttering inside the wardrobe.

"Pinky, I order you to the village bookstore," Severus growled through the door. "I want you to study the mating habits of primates. Perhaps then you will understand what I mean when I say I do not wish to be disturbed whilst I'm in bed with a woman. Now go!"

The house elf vanished with a pop.

He swept from the wardrobe into the adjoining washroom, and soon steam was rising amidst the sound of running water. Minutes later…

"Claira."

She looked up to find Severus standing in the doorway, naked once again. "Is there something I can help you with?" she smirked.

He flashed her a wily grin, his tone silky. "Come here, you silly girl."

Claira slide out of bed and slipped into the washroom. Grunts, giggles and squeals echoed the walls as he lifted her into the shower and pinned her back against the tile…

Later that afternoon…

She had wandered in and out of many doors, until at last Claira had found the one leading into the kitchen. Almost every inch was covered in porcelain tiles with beautiful mosaics above marble counters. She found it uncomfortable at times, being surrounded by such luxury, but Claira was growing used to it. The manor was not a dwelling that felt lived-in - more like a retreat from life: a place to escape reality. The one thing it could use though, Claira thought as she stepped through the door, was a woman's touch. The décor was set to intimidate and accommodate the needs of a bachelor. However, a few floral arrangements and patterned towels would do it nicely.

Moving toward a small, cupboard door, Claira noticed a waste bin filled with many colored silk fabrics. Momentarily forgetting her mission to prepare lunch, she approached the bin and lifted out a couple folds. Just then the door of the cupboard opened and Pinky appeared with a hardbound book in her hand, her eyes growing large at the sight of Claira holding the fabric.

"Miss is… is needing something from Pinky?" Her gaze never left Claira's hands.

"No, Pinky. Thank you," Claira smiled. "Except, why are these fabrics in the bin? They look in prefect condition."

The house elf took the silks from Claira's hands and hugged them to her chest. "Master is always buying too much fabrics. He is having to put them in the bin. But Pinky is not wanting to waste, so Pinky use fabrics to make pretty things. Master lets Pinky make her own clothes."

Claira rubbed her chin. "But, Pinky, why doesn't Severus just give the fabrics to you?"

"Oh, no!" Pinky gasped, looking scandalized. "No, Master must not give Pinky clothes. He must not free Pinky. Master is needing Pinky!"

Finally it came to her. Claira smacked her own forehead in stupidity. It was obvious that Severus was purchasing fabrics for Pinky, and then placing them in the bin as if by accident. The very thought melted her heart. How surprisingly thoughtful and sweet of him! Claira peeked into Pinky's cupboard and saw that the place was brimming with hand-made wall hangings and little crotchets, and many tiny dresses suspended in neat rows. "Pinky, how long have these fabrics been in the bin?"

The house elf's eyes darted about. "Master is putting them in the bin last night when Master is coming back from village. Master is telling Pinky he is not needing them after all."

Claira felt a lump form in her throat. She had given Severus a hard time for leaving her alone at the Manor, when all along he had been out buying Pinky a gift! She wanted to apologize, but to do so might embarrass him; if he wanted her to know he would have told her so. Claira groaned. It seemed she had a bit of learning to do about trust herself.

Claira looked back at Pinky, who was now stuffing the fabrics inside the bust of her dress as if to prevent Claira from taking them. "Pinky, how did Severus come to own you? His family live abroad."

Pinky's eyes began to swell with tears. "Master is buying Pinky from filthy, rotten shop in Knockturn Alley. Pinky is taken from Pinky's mother when Pinky is very small. Smelly, angry new master keeps Pinky locked in cage and is only letting Pinky out to do errands and testing on Dark Magic things." She shivered. "Pinky is being weak because Pinky is only eating mice she catch and moldy bread."

Her bottom lip began to tremble. "Then Master Snape is coming into shop one day to sell and sees Pinky in cage. Master Snape is asking to buy Pinky, and is paying many pieces of gold and trading his things. Master is kind master. Master Snape is giving Pinky her own cupboard, and is feeding Pinky anything Pinky likes, and is letting Pinky make her own clothes!"

Claira had never loved him more. "Yes, Severus is a wonderful man, isn't he?"

The house elf's ears suddenly perked up and rotated outward. She dropped her book and fabrics and vanished with a pop.

Claira blinked her eyes at the empty spot where Pinky once stood. She then shrugged her shoulders and retrieved the house elf's things to put in the cupboard, but not before blushing at the book title _Kama Sutra: The Arts of Love._ She hurriedly stuffed the book and fabrics inside and closed the door, and headed for the kitchen cabinets to find the makings for sandwiches.

Meanwhile...

Severus massaged the bridge of his nose as he sat behind his desk, slumped over a thick ledger and a stack of scrolls. He was nearing completion, but he still had a few hours to put into it. Stretching his arms out, he cracked his back a couple times before picking up his quill. Despite his workload and a migraine threatening to erupt, he felt better than he had in ages. There was something therapeutic in good sex. Great sex, he thought. He grinned to himself. All was well with the world - that is, until he heard a pop.

"Master Snape!"

"What is it, Pinky? I'm busy," Severus drawled, signing off another bill.

She began to tug on her ears, her eyes wide. "Pinky is trying to stop him, sir! But he is coming in, sir."

Severus's head snapped up. "Who is _he_?"

Just then the door flung open and in strutted a tall, thin man with long blond hair tied back in a silk ribbon. "He is me! Or should I say _I_, your dearest brother Jacob. Miss me?"

Severus growled and slunk back in his chair, his hand now rubbing his forehead. "Get out, Jacob. You are not welcome here."

Jacob clicked his tongue and grinned. "Come now, Severus. That's not very polite of you, is it? I've come for a little visit. You there, elf." He snapped his fingers at Pinky. "Serve us tea. Off you go."

Severus narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. Pinky bowed and vanished in a pop.

He then stood up from his chair just as Jacob sat down, and leaned over his desk. "I will not ask you again to _get out_."

Jacob smiled at him stupidly. "When I arrived at Hogwarts yesterday and found out you had dashed off to your manor for the weekend, I knew she would be here with you." He surveyed the room. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Severus's nails dug into the wood. "As if it were not bad enough that you piss your life away and pillage the family vaults to support your filthy habits, but you have now reduced yourself to chasing some absurd delusion about me that, quite frankly, has got nothing at all to do with you."

The smile never left Jacob's face. "Yeah, that's about right."

"You have my pity, Jacob. But you do not have my patience." He pulled his wand out of his pocket and rounded his desk. "There is no one here but myself, and I intend to keep it that way."

Just then the door opened to reveal Claira and a tray of sandwiches.

"I've made lunch," she beamed. "Oh!"

Her eyes fell on Jacob, who for a moment seemed stunned to see her. "Excuse me. I… I didn't realize you had company."

Severus tucked his wand behind his back and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss Bell. You may leave them on my desk."

A dropped pin could have been heard hitting the rug during the time it took Claira to cross the room and set the tray down. Severus's palms were damp with sweat beneath his clenched fists. His eyes followed her every move. When she spun back around to face him, he jerked his head at the door for her to leave. Her eyes were spilling with questions, but the moment they met his she frowned and hurried out of the study.

His gaze then darted to Jacob.

Jacob stared back at him slack-jawed, but recovered quickly. "And just _who_ was that, might I ask?"

"No one. Get out."

Jacob crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. "Do you expect me to believe I simply imagined a young woman just now walk in and out of your study?"

"Get out," Severus hissed.

"I'd like another look at her."

Severus raised his wand.

"If she's no one what do you care whether or not I meet her?" Jacob stammered, his eyes now on the wand pointed at his chest.

Severus's nostrils flared as he glared at his younger brother. The seconds ticked by. Then, quite suddenly, Severus lowered his wand, and adopted an expression of indifference. "She is a member of Hogwarts staff. I brought her here to assist me with a research project. I care not for her, nor anyone else for that matter. Mystery solved."

"So," breathed Jacob, relaxing in his chair, "you don't mind if I say hello?"

"Not in the least," Severus said, turning his back to him. "I had planned to send her off this evening."

"Well then, perhaps it is I who should pity you!" He stood and slicked back his hair. "What sort of man invites a pretty young thing like that to a secluded hilltop manor and sets her to read books?"

He crossed the room to the door, pausing to check the smell of his breath in his hand. "Cheers, dear brother. With any luck I won't be leaving here empty-handed."

"Good riddance," Severus said coolly, flipping his hand in the air.

But Jacob barely had a toe over the threshold before the door was banged shut by a streak of magic from overhead and his back was slammed against it. Severus bounded on him in two strides and jabbed his wand against Jacob's throat.

"So much for Plan B, eh?" Jacob grinned.

Severus's eyes were murderous. "One word to mother and so help me I'll make you wish you were never born."

"I have become immune to your threats over the years, Severus," he said, blinking. "However, I might be willing to keep my mouth shut if, say, you agree to introduce the girl to me properly."

Severus prodded the tip of his wand harder against Jacob's throat. "You are in no position to offer me an ultimatum."

"Ah, with all do respect, brother," Jacob choked, "I believe it is the other way around. Mother is still raving about your performance at the dinner party with the Ravensdales. Said she's taken your name off one of the vaults - just think what she might do if she found out about your dirty little secret."

Severus flinched. "Which vault?"

"433 - the one with all the jewels."

Silence.

Severus took a step back, his wand still held to Jacob's neck. "You meet her, then what?"

"Then we have a cup of tea and I go about my merry way." His expression turned serious. "I'm not here as your enemy, Severus. I'm just curious. You are making this far more dramatic and difficult than it has to be."

Severus continued to glare at him, then said, "One cup of tea -"

Jacob raised his finger, "And a sandwich."

"And a sandwich," he snarled, "then you leave."

"Agreed."

Severus's lip twitched. "I won't tolerate your foolish antics. If you so much as - "

"I'll behave myself," he chuckled. "I promise."

Another moment of heavy silence passed between them.

"Fine," Severus spat, lowering his wand. "Pinky."

Pop.

"Pinky is here, Master."

"Prepare tea for three and…" He hesitated his next command. "And send Claira back in."

She nodded her head and bowed. "Pinky is getting Miss now, sir."

Pop.

The two men moved away from the door. Severus remained standing, while Jacob sat down in an armchair adjacent to a black leather settee. He summoned an armchair from the corner of the study with a thin cherry wand and transformed it into a table.

"So, Claira Bell, is it? Hmm, I don't recognize the surname." Jacob tapped his lips with his index finger. "She's not a - no, she couldn't be." He looked at Severus. "Is she?"

Severus averted his gaze to the fireplace.

"Severus, tell me she's not - "

The sound of the door open and close came as a welcomed distraction.

"And here she is at last!" Jacob hummed. He strode over to Claira and took her hand in his, and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Hello," Claira smiled shyly, casting frequent glances at her lover.

Severus's stomach twisted into knots. For the first time since he had met Claira, he wished she were not so beautiful. She had her hair down in soft curls, and wore a tight, low-cut cotton blouse and loose skirt that accentuated her slim figure, and also exposed a troublesome amount of bare legs. Jacob's eyes were already roaming, and he had yet to release her hand.

"Claira, this is my brother Jacob," Severus said brusquely.

Claira's eyes widened in acknowledgment; she had only just recognized him as the small boy from the pensieve. "Oh, my! I… I'm very pleased to meet you, Jacob."

"Truly," Jacob purred, kissing her hand once more, "the pleasure's all mine."

Gazing at her face, he gently tilted her chin up with his free hand. "By God! You have the most beautiful eyes."

"Um, thank you," Claira replied, her cheeks reddening.

Severus's eyes were daggers as he wrenched Claira from his grip and directed her towards the settee. "Jacob won't be staying long, I'm afraid."

While her back was turned, Severus grabbed the front of Jacob's robes and brought his face within inches of his. "Keep your bloody hands to yourself," he hissed.

Jacob took a step back and smoothed out his robes, looking hurt. "Relax, Severus. No harm in a compliment."

Jacob reclaimed his armchair by the fire and waited for his brother to sit down beside Claira before he spoke again. "Claira, Severus tells me you are a member of staff at Hogwarts. What is it you do?"

The tray of tea appeared on the table with a soft crack.

Claira lifted the teapot and began pouring each of them a cup. "I'm a nurse, or mediwitch if you please. I assist Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary." She set the teapot down and popped a couple sugar cubes into her cup. "How about you, Jacob? What kind of work do you do?"

"Ah, well," Jacob said, swiveling his spoon in his teacup, "I'm not particularly fixed to any one vocation at the moment. You see, I prefer to travel round a bit - you know, see where life takes me from one day to the next."

Severus snorted into his cup. "What he means to say, Claira, is that he hasn't worked a single bloody day in his life."

Claira bit her lip and shifted her gaze to her teacup.

Jacob smiled. "Naturally that's going to sound negative coming from your mouth, dear brother." He winked at Claira. "Severus and I don't always agree. And why shouldn't I choose to enjoy my freedom while I'm still young and able… it's not as if I chose to run off with an occult of masked degenerates hell-bent on murder and world domination," he muttered into his teacup.

Claira sucked in her breath. The friction in the room had suddenly increased to an uncomfortable level.

Severus's lips thinned and he began to rise from his seat. Claira quickly put her hand on his thigh and whispered, "Severus, please."

Severus narrowed his eyes at his brother, breathing heavily, but settled back down.

"Yes, let's change the subject, shall we?" Jacob grinned. "How about your parents, Claira? Where are they from? Tell me about your childhood."

Claira's eyes brightened. "Oh, well both my mother and father were born in Hampshire. They married shortly after they had completed school, and settled in Winchester." She set her cup down and smirked. "I was eleven when I got my Hogwarts letter! It had not come as that great of a shock, really. You see, I already had a cousin who was a witch, and well it was hard to ignore all the strange little happenings around the house. Anyhow, my parents were thrilled… but then the killings began. My sister Jenny had just been born, and I was still a little girl when we fled to the states. That was when You-Know-Who had first risen to power…"

Her voice trailed off as she felt Severus stiffen beside her.

Jacob eyed her curiously. "Your parents would both be Muggles then?"

She nodded her head.

Jacob met Severus's gaze, his expression one of shock. "I see."

Lowering his gaze to his teacup, he added in a soft, grim tone, "Severus, you know Mother would never approve of her."

The color drained from Severus's face.

"Enough!" He rose to a full stance. "It's time you took your leave, Jacob."

Jacob's mouth opened and closed, and then settled on a frown. "But I haven't finished my tea or had a sandwich - "

He was suddenly smacked in the face by a sandwich Severus had summoned from across the room.

"Take it with you and get out."

Jacob slammed his teacup down, splashing its contents onto the table. The sandwich slid to the floor as he stood. "What is your problem, Severus?"

Severus balled his hands into fists and straightened to his full height over Jacob, looking impressive. "I do not take kindly to you insulting my…" He stumbled for the right word. "…Claira. I did not invite her here to be ridiculed."

"Who is insulted?" He pointed at Claira, whose eyes widened. "Claira, tell me, have I done anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"

Claira shook her head and flailed her hands. "No, not exactly - please don't bring me into this."

Severus stepped in front of her. "Only because she is too polite to admit it. I'll not have you trouble her anymore with your rudeness. Leave now, or I shall throw you out."

"You're barking!" Jacob sputtered, stomping towards the door. "Barking, you know that?"

"You want to know what my problem is, yes?" Severus called behind him, his eyes now enraged. "You are my problem, Jacob. You always have been."

Jacob threw his hands up in the air, spinning around. "Oh, here we go again. Every time I attempt to have a decent conversation with you _that_ gets tossed in my face. Poor ickle unloved Severus! Well it's not my bloody fault our mother loved me and despised you for being your father's son. Go on say it! We both know we didn't share the same father."

Severus pulled a sarcastic face. "Well, that much is obvious."

Claira shrank back into the sofa, attempting to melt into the fabric. She struggled to keep up with the conversation that no longer seemed to be about her, or anything relating to the present. How had it turned sour so quickly? The last thing Claira had wanted was to be caught up in the middle of a family feud.

Jacob's voice strained as he poked his finger at Severus's chest. "It's always about you, isn't it? And what a crummy childhood you had, and how I was the cause of all that went wrong with your life." His face twisted in anger. "Damn you, Severus. It's infuriating how so very selfish and blind you can be."

"_I_, selfish?" Severus spat. "_I_ who took your punishments for you while you sipped tea and had a laugh? _I_ who came to your aid whenever Father was on the bottle and needed a punching bag? Fuck you, you ungrateful bastard! I'm finished taking your knocks and feeling sorry for you."

Jacob's eyes lowered to the floor. "I'll admit I was a spoilt brat in Mother's care. I was young and foolish, and I didn't know any better. But don't you think for a second I didn't appreciate what you did for me. I may have been Mother's favorite, but Father always did hate me." He covered his face in his hands and took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "I didn't come here today in search of a fight, Severus."

Severus' tone was low and scathing. "No, you came here to poke your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Wrong again! Why don't you try shutting up and listening for once?" Jacob shouted.

Severus plunged his hand into his pocket and withdrew his wand. "First you intrude upon my property, then you interrogate my guest, and now you have the gall to silence me in my own home? I think its time I taught you some manners."

"Right," Jacob spat, "Right! Whenever an argument doesn't go your way you start waving your wand about like a madman. Go on then. Let's have it! You've wanted to hex me for years. You're just like Father. You are determined to hate me."

Severus raised his arm.

"Severus, don't!" Claira sprang from the settee and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Maybe… maybe you should listen to what he has to say. I… I don't think he came here with bad intentions."

Sparks flared from the tip of Severus's wand and fizzled to the floor. He met Claira's pleading eyes. "Stay out of this, Claira. You don't know him as I do. Sit down. Or perhaps its better if you left the room."

The tips of Claira's ears reddened. "I'm not a little girl, Severus. I'll stand if I please and I'll stay if I so choose. I don't appreciate you ordering me about. Besides, I think you need someone to stop you every now and again."

Severus stared at her in astonishment, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He lowered his wand.

Jacob smiled at her. "Claira, you're a sweet girl. But there is no reasoning with this man. He's right. I shouldn't have come. It was foolish of me to think he had become anything other than the bitter, loathsome man he had always strived to be."

Severus watched him walk to the door. He looked back to Claira. Her face was a portrait of disappointment.

"You're behaving like a child," she whispered. "This isn't who you are. You're better than this."

Jacob opened the door, but paused at the sound of Severus's voice.

"I don't hate you, Jacob."

He turned his head slightly.

Severus's eyes never left Claira's. "I may dislike certain characteristics of your personality, but never once have I turned my back on you."

Jacob snorted and took another step.

"Haven't you ever wondered who had attested to your whereabouts last year, when you were suspect in the rape of that muggle woman at Paddington Station?"

Jacob froze.

"You… knew about that?" His shoulders slumped. "I never! I was set up by a bloke I had won a hand of cards off of at the Leaky Cauldron. He regretted having lost his stealth cloak made of dragon scales to me. Worth a small fortune, really. So on his way home he confounded a muggle to think I had committed a crime against her."

Severus's lip curled. "I wouldn't have lied for you if I had thought otherwise."

Jacob turned to face him.

"They never gave me a name. Just said some chap had given the Department of Magical Law Enforcement a written alibi and paid for my release." He bowed his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Quite frankly, it was an embarrassment; whether you were guilty or not. I wasn't about to announce it to the world."

Claira gave Severus's shoulder an affectionate squeeze and moved to sit down, amazed once again at his silent acts of kindness.

"Thank you, Severus," Jacob breathed, overwhelmed. "I mean that. And thank you for not telling Mother. It would have killed her to know I'd spent three nights in Azkaban." He shuddered.

"Why did you come here, Jacob?" Severus asked, his eyes now fixed on his brother. "I find it hard to believe it was simply a matter of curiosity, as you say."

"I've changed, Severus. I've grown up." Jacob approached his armchair, but did not sit down. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since Azkaban - strange, I know - but looking back on my life thus far, I came to realize I had a brother I knew very little about, and who knew very little about me. I suppose I'd hoped we could establish some sort of communication, perhaps even become friendly if possible."

Severus's expression was unreadable, but his silence was permission for Jacob to continue.

"Believe it or not, I've given up many of my more _unbecoming habits_, as you pointed out earlier." He looked up at Severus, straight-faced. "Why, I even considered putting in a request for work."

The two men stared at each other, their faces contorting oddly. Then, quite suddenly, they both broke out in laughter. Claira gawped at them, her eyes bouncing from one to the other. There was no method to their madness.

Jacob had tears in his eyes, "Almost got you on that one, didn't I? You should have seen your face, Severus." He doubled over. "Work! Ha! As if I'd ever sink that low into subordination."

"Honestly," Severus said in between coughs and chuckles, "I found the thought quite frightening, to put it lightly. I don' think anyone would have you even if you weren't lying through your teeth."

"Probably so," Jacob grinned. "Seriously though - would it kill you to invite me for tea once every now and then?"

Severus sat down beside Claira and took a sip from his teacup, wincing at the chill of it. "I'll consider it."

Claira gave up trying to make since of it all. "Will you be staying then?"

"No, Claira. Thank you. You've been lovely. But I've got a date tonight - two actually." He winked at her. "That stealth cloak is going to come in handy this evening." He lifted his boot and stared at the squashed bits of bread and cheese underneath it. "Besides, I've just stepped on my sandwich."

Claira giggled. "Goodbye, Jacob. It's been interesting, to say the least."

Severus's face turned up in disgust. "Try not to touch down on the rug on your way out."

Jacob hobbled halfway to the door before taking his wand out and vanishing the mess on his boot. "For Merlin's sake! Am I wizard or not?"

He gave Claira one last devilish grin, and then disappeared into the hallway.

Severus set his cup down. "Forgive me, Claira. I hadn't planned for him."

"Oh, I don't know," Claira said, shifting her body to look at him. "I thought he was charming."

His eyes pulled away from hers, his lips thinning. "Yes, women have always preferred him."

"That's not what I meant," Claira grinned. "Besides, he's not my type."

"Oh?" Severus's voice tumbled in his throat. "And what precisely is your _type_, might I ask?"

Claira straddled his waist and ran her hands up and down his chest, and through his hair. "Oh, I prefer selfish, barking, bitter, loathsome madmen."

"You forgot childish," Severus murmured against her lips, his hands slipping beneath her skirt to cup her bottom.

The room became still and quiet.

Claira slowly undid his shirt while their mouths shared a long, teasing kiss. Her fingers traced the contours of his muscles, following the path of dark hair that spread from his torso down towards the front of his trousers. She sighed under his warm hands as they slipped underneath her panties and back up to the top of them, where he tugged gently so that the fabric tightened and flexed between her legs. Claira's hips began to move in time with the fabric, her breath quickening.

"Must you wear such revealing garments," he growled against her throat, kissing and tasting her skin. "You have no idea what affect it has on me."

Her hands dropped to undo his belt buckle and the buttons securing his trousers, making sure to tug and move her fingers as much as possible. "I think I have a pretty good idea what it does to you," she whispered in his ear as her fingers slipped between the fold of his boxers to wrap around the hardened mast beneath. "Why else would I wear them?"

"You saucy little minx," he groaned in a deep baritone, pushing upwards into her hand.

His hands lifted, lacking grace and subtlety, as they worked to unbutton her blouse. Once done, he pushed the fabric over her shoulders and yanked the clasp at the front of her bra. It snapped opened and the fabric was treated in the same manner as her blouse. He stared at her nude breasts greedily, cherishing them with his eyes but not touching, choosing instead to taunt her, to make her want them touched. Her kiss was forceful and urgent, and he could not help noticing how much more confident she was becoming with both words and action.

Tearing away from her warm mouth, he hissed and threw his head back, finally reaching out to cup her breasts as the pressure in his groin rose to her hand. He closed his eyes and jerked his hips, gasping and grunting in his attempt to fight his release from spilling into her palm. He knew it would never satisfy him as much as being buried inside her, being a part of her.

As though she had read his mind, Claira freed his fully engorged shaft from the fabric and moved her hips over his. He was thankful for the clasps on her undergarment, otherwise he would have had to tear them to shreds. Instead he tossed her panties aside and out of the way. He sighed in approval as she lowered herself onto him and he pushed up into her. Tight, wet heat wrapped around his eager erection, and once Claira began to ride him, her arms around his shoulders, breasts against his bare chest, mouth and tongue in tango with his, he was lost in complete and utter bliss.

He whispered soft, careless words against her lips, his hands caressing her thighs and hips, coercing them to move in faster, shorter strokes. Her body was now well tuned to his, and she understood what he wanted, needed. The pleasure flooded to the tips of his fingers to his toes, down through his groin and up… up… up

Pop.

And then back down… down… down

"For fucking sake! Not now Pinky," Severus shouted. "Not _now_! Bloody hell."

"Oh, no. Pinky is good house elf. Pinky is reading books Master is telling Pinky to read." Her crooked, jagged teeth flashed with pride. "Pinky is now knowing Master and Miss is making humpies. Pinky is not disturbing Master and Miss now."

Pop.

Claira giggled.

Severus lifted her off his lap and flipped her onto the settee, so that her body was spread out beneath his. He moved his body over hers. "Hush, you naughty girl."

"Or else what, Professor?" Claira teased, wrapping her legs around him. "You've already corrupted me with your teachings about the birds and the bees!"

She giggled again.

Severus pushed his hips between her legs and lifting her knees up to his shoulders, and entered her with a series of deep, hard thrusts. Claira cried out, her eyes wide and bewildered by the new position they had not done before, but which brought about a whole new kind of pleasure.

"Or else," Severus grinned, watching her mixed expressions with delight, "I shall have to teach you…Mmm… the sixty-four different ways a man can…Mmm… uuumph…. get his jollies off. Many of which…Mmm…. were not designed with a woman's pleasure in mind… Mmm…uuumph… Aaaaaahhh!"

He sighed and collapsed on top of her, ignoring the sound of the tea set shattering. The destruction of his things had become something of the norm.

"Damn," he huffed, out of breath. But as he looked down at her blissful smile, her eyes and the way they watched him in that special, adoring way they had always done in the afterglow of sex, he realized he had not lost the stiffness in his groin.

He gave her a catty smirk. "Let's try a different one now, shall we?"

"Severus Snape, don't you dare!" Claira squealed as he pulled her up into a sitting position. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for all… _that_ yet."

Severus hugged her to his chest and kissed her lips, gently and lovingly, and manipulatively. "I wouldn't dream of making you do anything that made you feel uncomfortable or unpleasant." He worked his hands over her body, making sure to touch her in all the places he knew would thrill her. "But, Claira, there is so much more pleasure to be found beyond the missionary position - not that I don't find it pleasurable, especially in terms of it being the most intimate. I just think you would not be disappointed to experience new thrills and sensations that cannot be milked from that standard."

He kissed her mouth once more, and his erection twitched at the prospect of what he had planned next. When he broke away, he stared into her eyes. "You do trust me, don't you?"

"Of… of course I do, Severus," Claira whispered, staring at him. "You know I do."

"Then?" he asked silkily, kicking off his boots and pushing his trousers down past his knees.

"Alright," she murmured against his lips. "If it pleases you."

"Brilliant," he breathed, standing and taking her hands in his. "Come here."

He pulled her up with him and tugged off her skirt, and then spun her around so that she was facing away from him, her bottom brushing evocatively against his erection, her back against his heaving chest.

The pressure in his groin was almost unbearable. "Now… bend over."

* * *

The next morning Claira awoke to rain pattering on the bedroom window. Severus was spooned against her back. She turned her head to look at him. She smiled. He had fallen asleep with the same euphoric grin he had worn the night before, when is engine had finally blew out all its steam. Her body was sore in odd places, but for the most part she was content. Claira found happiness in knowing she had fulfilled most of her lover's requests, even if they had not been the most flattering or womanly.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the moment; the way it felt to be wrapped in the arms of the man she loved; the serene feeling of being alone together, just the two of them miles away from all other persons. Claira could not help but wonder if this was what it would be like to be married to Severus, sleeping in after a wild night of laughter and sex, in his lavish manor house, complete with matching fortune and notoriety. It was like a fairy tale. But would it always be this way? Was Severus the kind of man to keep it going? Would he one day grow weary of her and trade her in for another?

A tear formed at the corner of Claira's eye. Would Severus one day return her words when she told him that she loved him?

She had confessed to him again last night, just before he had fallen asleep. His grin had faltered for a moment; if she had blinked she would have missed it. But then he had taken her in his arms and kissed her lips, and closed his eyes.

Claira exhaled a long, heavy sigh. Severus stirred. His eyes were still shut when he patted her down her body as if to make sure she was still there. She then heard his breathing turn shallow once more. Careful not to wake him, she eased the covers off herself and slipped out from beneath his arm, and tiptoed across the room to his wardrobe. She tossed on one of his long, white button-up shirts and crept downstairs to the kitchen to start breakfast.

It took Claira putting her foot down and ordering Pinky out of the kitchen to finally gain access to the stove. Such creatures did not understand the intricacies of love, or what strange forces made a woman want to cook for her man.

Severus yawned and stretched out his arms, first up and then over to the warm body lying next to him. His hand kept reaching for the woman he could now sense was not there. His eyes flung opened and searched the room. Gone. Willing himself not to overreact, he tossed the covers aside and stumbled into the washroom. Claira was not in there either. He then made for his wardrobe and tugged on a pair of trousers, and a shirt which he did not bother to button on his way out of the door.

After twenty minutes of hunting, he found her in the kitchen along with the smell of singed butter and overcooked eggs. She had her back to him, looking quite delectable in one of his old shirts. He crept up behind her and grabbed her around the waist, and nibbled at her neck.

Claira screamed, and spun around. "Severus! Don't do that. You startled me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. He lifted her up in his arms and kissed her lips, and then set her back down. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" he asked, staring at the various pans on the stove.

"Cooking," Claira beamed, holding up a silver spatula.

"I have a house elf for that," he muttered, walking over to a steamy plate on which a browned omelet sat.

Claira scraped bacon out of one of the pans. "I gave Pinky the morning off."

Severus poked his finger at the omelet, which felt like rubber. Picking up a fork, he stabbed it and inspected it, and then plunged it into his mouth.

"What do you think?" Claira smiled, her eyes eager for approval.

"Delicious," Severus told her.

When she turned away, he cringed and spat it out into his hand. His eyes tore around the kitchen for a place to deposit it before she caught him. Unable to find one readily, he slipped it into his pocket for later disposal.

He watched Claira from the corner of his eye, and when he was certain she wasn't looking he withdrew his wand from his other pocket and pointed it at the plate. He used a nonverbal spell to transfigure the ingredients of the omelet into something more edible.

The toast looked passable, he thought, working his way around the kitchen. Every now and then he would wave his wand over a pot to salvage its contents. Twice he had tried to scoop Claira up in his arms and carry her out of the kitchen, but she had refused him.

And so they sat down in the dining room to eat. Severus ate as little as possible, but feigned enjoyment of the meal so as not to hurt her feelings.

"Mmm, this came out better than I thought, " Claira grinned, finishing off her plate.

Severus smirked and said nothing, choosing instead to slip a few slices of overcooked bacon under the table for Pinky to clear away.

They sat in silence for a while, the time it took for their stomachs to settle. Severus folded his hands behind his head and stared at her, his eyes moving over her slowly.

"What are you thinking," she inquired after several minutes, her elbow on the table and chin in her hand.

He made no attempt to brush the hair out of his eyes as he leaned forward and said in a deep, milky tone. "I was thinking about your clothes strewn about the floor of my study." His gaze shifted to her bare thighs. "I was thinking about you wearing my shirt just now, and whether or not you took the time to put on undergarments."

"Oh, I see," Claira hummed, her legs crossing and uncrossing. "Have you thought about how you are going to find out for sure?"

Severus smirked, "I have."

Their eyes met. Severus lunged. Claira sprang. He chased her through the double doors, through several corridors and up the stairs to his bedchamber. Claira squealed and wriggled as he caught her and tacked her down onto the bed. The buttons of her shirt scattered over the sheets and onto the floor as he ripped her shirt opened to reveal her naked breasts, and a pair of black lace panties.

"Just as I'd concluded," he drawled, sounding bored. "You are very predictable, Miss Bell."

He rolled off of her and laid his head down on the pillow, tucking his arms underneath it.

"Are you serious?" Claira sat up, frowning. "Or are you having a laugh?"

"Perhaps." Severus closed his eyes. "Or perhaps not."

Claira straddled his hips and leaned over him, her hair spilling on either said of his face. "I can be unpredictable."

She began kissing him, starting with his lips and moving down to his chin and throat. Further down she went, to his shoulders and chest, to his nipples that she nipped and lightly suckled. He bit back a moan. Smiling, Claira continued down, past his ribs to the buttons on his trousers.

Severus grinned, "See, just as I said. Predictable."

She rose back up to his face, breathing against his lips. "How do you know I was actually going to go there? Maybe I'm not that kind of girl."

His eyes opened then and he captured her body in his arms, pulling her down for a crushing kiss. "Because I want you to," he murmured. "Because I know you're curious."

He gave her another kiss, a gentler kiss this time before closing his eyes again. Claira watched his face for a few moments, realizing what he wanted, expected. She slowly moved back down to the buttons of his trousers, taking her time to undo them. She could feel him hard and waiting underneath.

"That a girl," his voice quivered. "Just remember not to bite and you'll do brilliantly."

Claira was nervous, uncertain if she would be able to please him. And she wanted to please him, more than anything or anyone ever had. Freeing his erection from the fabric, she closed her eyes and let her tongue and mouth do the thinking for her.

The bedroom quickly filled with gasps and soft moans. "Yes, now… Mmm! Good, and now… uuumph… bloody hell!"

Severus's words turned into loud grunts, and his hips jerked and pushed towards her mouth greedily. She anticipated his paces and brought him to his climax within minutes. His release was swift and sudden, and afterwards he was silent except for his quickened breathing, which was heavy and unsteady.

Claira smiled and moved up to kiss him, to see the pleasure in his eyes. But what she found was a piercing stare, full of anger and suppressed rage on the verge of exploding.

His voice was low and threatening. "You've done that before."

Claira froze. "No… well yes, once. But what does it matter?"

His jaw tightened. "Whom?"

"Severus that isn't fair for you to ask." Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. "I was nineteen. It was a party in college. I had too much to drink. It was a mistake. Please, don't look at me like that."

He pushed her off of him and sat up on the edge of the bed, his body shaking.

Tears welled up in Claira's eyes and trickled down her cheeks. "Don't you dare so this to me, Severus. Not once have I ever asked about your past partners. I don't want to know." Her voice broke. "So I'm not the innocent girl you imagined me to be. But I never lied to you. And I've regretted that night ever since it happened. I'm ashamed of myself. Now you know why I don't drink, why I can't stand the taste of it."

He slowly rose from the bed and turned to face her, his right hand gripping his wand with white knuckles. "What else haven't you told me? What other secrets are you keeping from me, I wonder."

The strange look in his eyes made the hair stand up on her arms. "Severus I told you all there is to know. Now stop it. You're frightening me."

He raised his wand.

"Severus, what are you doing? Don't!"

She had no time to react when he suddenly shouted, "Legilimens!"

The attack was violent, and a crude violation of both her trust and privacy. Images of Claira's past flashed in her mind like the flipping of pages. She saw the first boy she had kissed at nine years old; she saw herself taking money from her parents savings box under their bed without permission at sixteen; she saw an eighteen year old Claira at a party accepting several small pills and then vomiting in a dirty toilet afterwards; she saw herself drunk in a cluttered closet on her knees in front of a young man who had his hands on the back of her head forcibly pushing and pulling -

"No!" Claira shouted.

There was a loud boom and Severus was knocked back from the bed, rubbing his left shoulder. His eyes were still wild, deranged as he overtook her once more and pointed his wand at her temple.

"Stop it, Severus," Claira screamed, struggling beneath the weight of his body. "Stop it!"

"Legilim -"

SLAP!

The room fell into a dead silence.

Claira's hand burned, and she looked up to see a dark red mark on the side of Severus's face where she had smacked him. His eyes were no longer manic but now shocked, frozen, locked on hers.

"Severus," Claira breathed, her chest rising and falling. "I'm sorry… but you were out of your mind. I had to."

Tears poured from her eyes. He slowly rolled off her and sat up on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. Claira stared at him, and then she moved closer, and reached her hand out. He did not make any movement when she touched his back, nor when she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Severus I'm sorry - "

"Don't," he whispered. "Don't apologize. You had every right."

She kissed his shoulder.

He rubbed his face. "I never meant to hurt you, Claira. Forgive me. I lost control. I… I have a bad temper."

Claira chortled softly, between light trickles of tears. "So I've noticed."

"Its not funny," he said, dropping his hands into his lap. "I am a master of Occlumens. There was a time when nothing affected me. I once had dominance over my emotions. But now, with you… I was not prepared for these types of feelings. I become angry for all new reasons. The thought of another man touching you…"

She took his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to his. "You can't blame yourself, Severus. You had a horrible childhood - "

"That is no excuse." He closed his eyes. "I cannot blame my parents for my behavior. If anything, my childhood should have taught me what not to become. I've tried to be a good man - "

"You are a good man, Severus." She kissed his lips. "But you cannot pretend that the abuse you suffered as child has not damaged you somehow. No one is that strong."

Severus opened his eyes and took her in his arms, and held her. "I admire your patience, Claira, and your readiness to forgive. But I do not deserve either from you. I've done a terrible thing - "

"Shhhh," Claira whispered, touching her fingers to his lips. "Nothing you do will make me stop loving you. I forgive you because I want to, because I know you can't undo seventeen years of psychological trauma in one night. But we can work on it, together."

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the morning. Instead they held each other as they lay in bed, listening to the fury of the storm passing overhead.

"We should return to Hogwarts as soon as the storm breaks," Severus whispered.

Claira nodded her head and snuggled closer to his body, wishing they had more time. She knew she would miss the tranquility of the manor. She would miss Pinky. But mostly, she would miss sleeping beside Severus, in the warmth and strength of his arms.

* * *

The rain had let up mid afternoon, and Claira was busy packing her suitcase when Pinky came in to say goodbye. "Pinky is wishing Miss and Master could stay."

Claira smiled. "Oh, me too Pinky."

"Master Snape is only coming home on holidays and some days in summertime. Pinky is lonely. But Master is telling Pinky he might soon be coming home for longer times. Master is telling Pinky he is leaving Hogwarts."

Claira stiffened at the announcement, and looked down at Pinky. "What do you mean he is leaving Hogwarts?"

Pinky grabbed her ears and began to wring them, shaking her head. "Pinky is good house elf! Pinky is coming to say goodbye to Miss. Pinky is not telling Miss Master's secrets."

"Pinky wait!" Claira cried.

Pop.

Claira muttered under her breath and slammed the suitcase shut. What did Pinky mean Severus was leaving Hogwarts? It had to be a mistake, Claira thought. Wouldn't he have mentioned it by now?"

Much too soon she and Severus were walking hand and hand through the steel gates leading away from the manor. And too soon he was holding her, and they were spiraling through dense darkness and arriving at the front gates of Hogwarts. The castle loomed in the distance, its tiny lights flickering in the tower windows. Severus and Claira still had their arms around each other, holding on to the last moments of their journey.

A tear escaped down Claira's cheek.

"I don't want it to end," she whispered.

Severus hugged her tight and kissed her lips. "Neither do I, but unfortunately we are slaves to time, and time never ceases - not even in the Wizarding world. Come, if we hurry we can just make dinner."

Inside the entrance hall, Claira took her suitcase from Severus's hand and headed for the staircase. "Go on ahead without me. I just have to run this upstairs."

Severus grabbed her arm and at the foot of the steps, and leaned over close to her ear. "I'd like to see you tonight."

"We haven't even been apart yet," Claira grinned.

He pulled a face. "I meant I'd like to share my bed with you."

"But someone might see me leaving in the morning."

He glanced around the hall. "Our fireplaces are linked. You can come and go without anyone noticing. But if you don't want to - "

"Yes," Claira whispered, her heart beating madly. "I want to. Of course I do."

"Good. Come after dinner, but do not follow too close behind me."

He then straightened up and spun on his heel, and entered the Great Hall in his role as the Potions Professor of Hogwarts. And Claira climbed the stairs as the school's nurse. But as they went, they both shared a smile as lovers.

**I want to give a special thank you to all my readers! Your feedback has always motivated me to continue this story - even if there are months and months in between posts. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I have plans to write the next chapter soon, but please do not hold your breaths. It may take me a while…**


	39. A Dose of Reality

Note: Sorry this chapter is short. Perhaps it would be better for me to write in short bursts and post, than to try and write twenty-five pages to make up for the time lapse.

Chapter: 38

A Dose of Reality

Hogwarts had reawakened to the sound of children's laughter and exploding snaps, noisy magical toys and the buzz of conversation. Professor Snape walked the corridors in his usual stride of sweeping black robes and a curled lip, but to the students' surprise he ignored most of their rule breaking as he passed, pausing only once or twice to blast a slime-spewing object out of the air on his way to the staffroom.

Severus was too distracted to concern himself with petty mischief. His thoughts were of his morning, and the thrills of just having sexed a beautiful young woman in his bedchamber right under the Headmaster's nose. Such behavior was not restricted amongst Hogwarts staff, at least it was not specifically banned in the staff handbook as Severus had made it a point to check, but it was frowned upon for many sensible reasons, most of which dealt with the innocent minds of the children the school housed. He and Claira would have to be cautious and ever so careful not to let on that they were involved.

When Severus opened the door he found the staffroom active with chatter, but as he entered there was a sudden hush. Everyone's eyes shifted to him - particularly Minerva McGonagall's, who was now watching him with a cat-like stare.

"Did you enjoy your holiday, Severus?" she asked.

Severus had his back to the others as he filled his mug with black coffee. "I did."

Someone giggled.

"And how about Claira?" she added with a slight perk to her tone.

More sniggering.

Severus spun on his heel, cup in hand, and one eyebrow arched. "How should I know?"

"Oh, don't play coy with us, Snape!" Professor Sprout blurted out. "We heard you and Claira snuck away together for the weekend."

There was a sudden stir of excitement.

"I see." Severus sneered at her, and then turned to glare at the others. "I suppose that was this morning's topic of choice? Aren't we a little old for rumors and trivial gossip?"

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you deny it?"

He took a causal sip from his cup. "No, I do not."

Gasps.

"However," he continued. "You can hardly label the invitation of a colleague to one's home under the permission of the Headmaster as _sneaking away_, as you put it. Indeed, Miss Bell did assist me with a private project over the weekend. But no, it was not a flight of fancy. Sorry to disappoint you."

Madam Hooch craned her neck over that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. "What sort of project?"

"That, Madam," Severus said in a cool voice, "is none of your business. Now if you'll excuse me I have a classroom to organize for this morning's lesson."

He escaped out the door and retreated to his office, teeth clenched. He had not expected such an aggressive response from the staff. It would seem Claira had exposed a chink in his armor. He found it unnerving that the others would dare question his whereabouts, or speak to him as though he owed them any explanation. They would never have done so under normal circumstances. Severus rubbed his temples and sighed. At least he had thought far enough ahead to collaborate a story with Claira that morning. He had instructed her not to elaborate or give any more information unless necessary, and if all else failed she was to remove herself from the conversation.

Claira was a good girl, Severus thought. He was confident she would abide. Composing his thoughts, he entered his classroom and began preparations for the day.

Claira's rapid footsteps echoed the dungeon tunnels as she hurried to Severus's study. She was neither late to their testing session nor was she summoned there with urgency - she was simply eager to see her lover after a long first day back at Hogwarts. He had been on her mind all morning, afternoon and evening. So what if she had to swallow nasty-tasting potions that would do odd things to her body? As long as she was near Severus, nothing else mattered.

He was sitting on the edge of his majestic desk when she entered, free of his teaching robes and frock coat. Several buttons of his shirt were unfastened, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Claira's pulse raced at the sight of him, but he did not look up at her. His eyes were concentrated on a small glass bottle in his hand, which he rolled between his long fingers. His chest rose and fell with each breath as he stared at the black liquid cased inside.

"Severus?" Claira whispered.

His head snapped up, and he appeared startled by her presence. But the expression was fleeting. "How was your day?"

She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Torture," she murmured against his lips.

"Claira," his voice strained, his hands already moving over her body at their own will. "Not now. We have business to attend."

He gently pushed her away and slipped out from beneath her arms. Claira felt a pang in her heart at his rejection, but she knew he was right. She followed him to the fireplace, where he spun around to face her once more. Her skin brightened from the glow of the fire, and she realized he had moved her there so that he would be able to monitor whatever effect the potion would have on her appearance. She gulped.

The tone of his voice did little to ease her trepidations. "You will recall a certain memory of mine that you witnessed from my pensieve - I do not wish to discuss it in detail, however it is important that you remember the effect the poison had on the inhabitants of that ballroom, and the unceremonious way they each met their death."

Claira's eyes dropped to the potion. Her lip quivered. "Is that the same - "

"Yes," Severus nodded, looking away from her. "It is believed that the Dark Lord still has a supply of it kept hidden away. It is only a matter of time before he employs its uses unto to Ministry, or perhaps a large gathering of Muggles." His grip tightened on the bottle. "I have been asked by the Minister to develop an antidote. If he only knew I had been the one…"

He shut his eyes for a moment, and then blinked them back open. "Never mind that. The point of the matter is I believe I have achieved the antidote. All of my research suggests it is ready for human consumption, and it tested well on an assortment of rats - "

"Rats!" Claira squeaked, taking a step back. Her eyes widened with fear. "Humans are much different than rats, Severus. If… if the antidote fails I might die."

Severus's eyes locked on hers, his expression harsh. "Do you think I don't realize that? Do you think it was an easy decision for me?" His mouth twitched. "Claira, I am attempting to distance myself from any emotions involved here. I suggest you do the same. We had an agreement that you would test any and all potions presented to you. Your acceptance was sealed by magic - you cannot refuse."

Claira opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it. She had agreed to all his terms those months ago, knowing the risks she would face. Severus was an intelligent, skilled wizard, Claira reminded herself. She had to have faith in him, in his work.

She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle. "I trust you, Severus. I have no reason to doubt you as long as you are certain the antidote will work. Let's hurry and get this over with, shall we?"

Severus nodded and released the bottle into her hand. He watched as she uncorked it, stared as she brought it to her lips.

She paused to take a deep, shaky breath.

His breathing quickened. The crease in his forehead deepened as blood rushed to his face and colored his cheeks. Sweat began to seep from his pores as he watched Claira tilt the bottle. His heart pounded painfully against his chest until he could stand it no more.

He growled and smacked the bottle out of her hand.

She stared at him, stunned. Her hand was still hovering in the air near her gaping mouth.

Severus turned away from her and stalked over to his desk. He pulled opened the drawer and began to rummage through its contents. "Perhaps now is not the best time to test poisons," he muttered. "We do not know the effect the cold weather might have on the reaction time of the antidote. I have another potion here…"

"Don't be silly, Severus," Claira called to him, stooping down to retrieve the bottle. Most of the poison had spilled out, but there was just enough left in its belly for a swallow. "I'm not frightened anymore. Honest. Watch."

Severus snapped his head up in time to witness her pull the emptied bottle away from her lips. He watched in horror as her smile rapidly diminished and her body began to sway. Then she fell to the floor and disappeared from sight.

"CLAIRA!" He stumbled over his chair and raced to her. Tripping on the rug in front of the fireplace, he fell to the floor just inches from her face. She looked like a corpse. Her skin was ashen and her body stiff, bulging blue veins spread across her neck like spider webs.

Pulling himself up, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the antidote. His fingers fumbled with the vial, and shook as he attempted to uncork it. "Fuck! Open damn you."

Severus felt dizzy, as if he might faint at any moment. He could tell she was not breathing. The fear he felt in those seconds it took to lift her head and empty the antidote into her mouth was so incredible, so overwhelming he could barely stand to touch her.

He stared down at her, chanting, praying he had not been too late. His reaction time had been slow, clumsy. He doubted. What if he had been wrong about the antidote? What if he had just… killed her?

His eyes became wild. He grabbed her shoulders and began to shake her. It hurt to breath. The minutes ticked by. It felt like an eternity.

Five minutes passed and still nothing.

He had been too late, or the antidote was bunk. It didn't matter; the end result was the same.

Claira was dead.

His hands slipped away from her shoulders and fell to the floor on either side of her head. He slouched over her, consumed with pain. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He had stopped breathing. All he could do was stare at her face. He nearly vomited at the thought of what he had just done. It was Lily Evans all over again.

And then she opened her eyes… and smiled.

"I told you so," she whispered.

For a moment he could not believe his eyes. Through panic and grief he had not noticed the color had returned to her skin, or that her chest had resumed its paces. He blinked at her.

Fear turned into relief, and then quickly to anger.

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her again. "NEVER do that again, do you understand? You stupid girl! You nearly… I thought…"

His face flooded with emotion. He turned away from her, his body trembling. "You stupid girl."

He then stood and stormed off to the bookcase concealing the passageway to his bedchamber, and disappeared behind it.

Claira slowly sat up, dazed and confused. She held her face in her hands and waited for it to pass. She could hardly remember what had happened, only that she had felt dizzy after taking the poison and had fallen to the floor. Why had Severus become so angry, she wondered. She had hoped to impress him with her courage, but all she had managed to do was set him off once again. One would think he'd have been pleased the antidote was a success.

Claira slowly got to her feet and followed him through the bookcase and into his bedchamber. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking with his hands woven tightly in his hair. He stiffened when he heard her enter.

She knelt down on the floor in front of him and laid her head in his lap. "Severus, I didn't mean to upset you. I wanted to show you that I trust you."

He did not respond immediately, nor did he push her away. Instead he stared down at her.

After a while he spoke. "We have to end this."

Claira's eyes widened.

"The testing, I mean," he continued, "It was inevitable, I suppose. Things have become too complicated between us to carry on."

He touched her hand and they both glowed for a moment, which broke the magical contract.

Claira sighed. "But who will test your potions now?"

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly, "Once I receive the Order of Merlin… if I receive the Order of Merlin, they will provide me with all the tools I need to continue my work."

"I'm sorry I made a mess of things," she whispered.

He placed a tender hand on her cheek. "Claira…I wish to be alone for a while."

She looked up at him in protest, but then nodded when she saw the look of seriousness in his eyes. Without a word she slid away from his lap and walked out the door, clicking it closed behind her.

It was midnight when Severus had come to her. She had not heard him enter, but she felt him slip into her bed and pull her tightly against him. It was dark in the room, but Claira could smell him all around her. Without a word he gently rolled her over to face him, and covered her mouth with his. His hands were on her, but were ever so thoughtful and adoring as they touched her, unclothed her. Then he moved over her body. The warmth of flesh on flesh vanquished the chill of the small chamber. He soon entered her as a man claiming his possession, but he moved with a profound delicacy she had not known of him before. Her heart told her to keep quiet. This was Severus's apology, and his way of expressing his emotions to her. Why he would not tell her how he felt, she did not know. But as he made love to her, absorbed her in his world, she did not doubt his sincerity.

The bed began to creak beneath their bodies and the pleasure of mating sounded from their throats, swallowing the silence. Still they did not speak until after Severus had thrown his head back at the climax of their venture and spilt the last drop of his seed inside her.

His hips continued to move in spite of his defeat, and he groaned against her lips at having ended much sooner than he had wanted. Claira wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders and kissed him. The moonlight just outlined his silhouette as he rested his body beside her and combed his fingers through her hair. She could feel him staring at her through the darkness.

"Have you ever studied occlumency?" he asked, his voice slightly tarnished.

Claira caressed his chest. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"I plan to teach you, beginning Thursday."

She lifted her head from the pillow. "I don't understand."

"Things have been quiet of late, but that does not change my status with the Dark Lord. I am a wanted man, Claira." He sat up and placed his hand on her hip, his mouth next to her ear. "You have become too close to me. If anyone were to discover our relationship they might try to use you against me." He felt her shiver. "The world is not the pretty picture you have painted for yourself, Claira. It's time you opened your eyes to the dangers of our time. We are safe here at Hogwarts, but outside its boundaries there are evils beyond your comprehension."

"I am not so naïve as you seem to think, Severus," she breathed, hurt. "I know the challenges the wizard world is facing. I know of the potential for war. You forget I served an internship at St. Mungo's for a year before coming to Hogwarts. I've seen what the Dark Lord is capable of. Just because I choose to view the world from the lighter side of things does not mean I do not understand the darkness."

Severus sighed. "Perhaps not. But I do not think you are prepared enough to defend yourself from the atrocities the Dark Lord has planned. I am sorry to say I am not the Prince Charming you imagine me to be. If you wish to be with me you must accept the risks involved. You _will_ learn occlumency, Claira. I'll not have you vulnerable to his influences. Now lay down."

He pulled her back into his arms and held her against his bare chest. "I shall protect you to the best of my ability, but even I cannot shield your mind from such attacks. You will have to strengthen your own mind. I can show you how."

Claira stared out the window, her thoughts racing. "But what if I'm no good at it? Not everyone can master occlumency, you know. It's a skill like anything else."

"I'm not expecting you to master it," he grumbled, giving into sleep. "I do, however, expect you to try."

It took Claira much longer to fall asleep. Severus had given her a strong dose of reality; a reality she had, until now, chosen to ignore. She had a feeling things were only going to get more difficult for them. But with Severus by her side, she was ready to face them head on.

To be continued….

Special note: Thank you to all who returned to my story after months and months of waiting. I love to read all your reviews and comments, and look forward to more in the future.


	40. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter: 39

**The Calm Before the Storm**

"You are not concentrating, Claira!"

"Yes, I am! It's difficult with you poking around in there," she said, breathless. "Can't you be more gentle?"

"Do you think the Dark Lord would be gentle? I assure you his penetration would be much deeper and more violent than anything I do here tonight."

Claira opened her eyes and giggled.

Severus sighed and rubbed his face. "Claira, please. You are behaving like a child."

"I know," she frowned. "I'm sorry. It's just we've been at this for over an hour. I'm exhausted. Can't we take a break?"

Severus cupped her chin and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I understand this is difficult for you. Perhaps I am expecting too much of you at this stage." He leaned closer. "However, after three weeks of training you should at the least be able to stop my attacks at some point, as you had that morning at my manor. Become angry with me if you must. I want to see an improvement from last week. We shall rest after this one. Ready now?"

Claira took a deep breath, her fingers digging into the rug in front of the fireplace where she sat, across from Severus. She tried to clear her mind, just as she had practiced.

"Legilimens!"

Images from her past came streaming through like a home movie on fast-forward. She could sense his presence in her mind, watching her life story. Claira began to wonder whether Severus really meant to teach her occlumency, or if he simply wanted to pry into her past. Each time she tried to block his path he opened a different door to her memories. There was no use resisting him; he was far too skilled. And so he saw her childhood. He met her family and friends, teachers and boyfriends. He watched her grow from babe to adult, all her misgivings and accomplishments. Some memories he revisited more than once, such as their nights of lovemaking. These he would linger on for minutes at a time until he grew bored, or aroused.

Claira soon discovered that if she concentrated hard enough on their sexual encounters she could push him out of her head, using seduction as a weapon. Of course she would have to face the wraith of his desire once the connection was broken, and naturally he did not give her credit for what she deemed to be a creative defense on her part.

"Enough," Severus said coolly, releasing her from the spell. "You will have to practice double before our next session." His breathing was heavy and irregular, having just revisited the time she had given him oral pleasure.

"I will try." Claira sighed with relief. "Am I free to go now?"

"You wish to leave?" He starred at her through darkened eyes. "I thought you might stay the night."

She smiled and crawled into his arms. "I meant to bed. _Your_ bed. But if you had other plans?"

He grinned and stood, and swept her up in his arms. "To bed is precisely what I had in mind, my dear."

They slipped away into the darkness behind his bookcase and beneath the cool sheets of his four-post bed, leaving all thoughts and clothing behind. There was no need for Severus to read her mind once there; her touches and kisses told him exactly what she was thinking.

* * *

Severus awoke hours later to a soft rustling sound. His eyes searched the darkness of his bedchamber and saw a slight figure moving about in a hurried pace. "Claira?" he grumbled. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

He sat up. "Come to bed, you silly girl. It is nearly midnight."

"I need a glass of water," she replied. "I'll only be a moment."

He sensed something was amiss. His eyes narrowed as he watched her slip out the door. Not long after she left did he pull on his trousers, shirt and travel cloak, and follow after her.

He kept to the shadows, his footsteps light and swift. His temper rose with each fleeting moment as she crept up the stairwell to the entrance hall and past the double doors leading onto the grounds, angry that she had not only lied to him but was also keeping secrets.

Had Severus not been so consumed by curiosity and possessiveness, he might have seen a third person emerging from the castle, and who then followed them stealthily into the cold night. As it were, Teresa's presence went unnoticed as Severus pursued Claira across the snowy field and down a narrow path leading to Hagrid's hut. He could not imagine what business she could possibly have there, and made sure to stay well hidden until he found out.

Smoke rose from the chimney. There was a glow in the window, and voices could be heard from within the dwelling. Claira knocked on the door, and Severus became even more baffled by the sudden appearance of Madam Pomfrey. She and Hagrid then led Claira away from the door to the rear of the hut, where Severus spotted a wounded porlock laying in the belly of what was once a pumpkin patch.

"It was attacked by one of those awful trolls while guarding the thestrils earlier this evening. Hagrid has sedated the poor beast," said Madam Pomfrey, staring down at the mound of shaggy fur. "Now, Claira, remember what we practiced."

Claira nodded her head and knelt beside the porlock, and gently placed her hands upon it. Her lips murmured a soft incantation and her palms began to glow with a brilliant blue light. She was performing the Caduceus Aura right before Severus's eyes. He abandoned his position from behind a knurly tree trunk and sprang forward.

"What the devil is going on here?" He grabbed Claira by the shoulders and attempted to pull her away. "Claira, this is madness!"

"Severus, no! Leave her. You must not disrupt the spell! It could harm her," Madam Pomfrey shouted. "Hagrid!"

Hagrid reached over and grabbed Severus by the cuff of his cloak and lifted him away from Claira. "Sorry 'bout this, Professor."

"Unhand me this instant," Severus snarled, kicking his legs.

Hagrid set him down. Twisting and stroking his grizzly beard, he said, "No hard feelings, eh? Poppy's right, yeh know. Dangerous magic that."

"I am well aware of it, thank you," Severus hissed, straightening his clothes. "Poppy, what is the meaning of this? You of all people should know how potentially deadly the Caduceus Aura can be if performed improperly?"

His eyes never left Claira, nor had Claira's hands broken contact with the porlock. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him, a faint smile on her lips. "It's… alright, Severus. I've been… been practicing for weeks. I think I've nearly got it."

"Weeks, you say?" There was a slight tremor in his voice. "Why have you not told me?"

"Because of how you reacted tonight, I imagine," Poppy interrupted. "Besides, Dumbledore thought it best to keep this hushed. Claira has a special gift, as you well know. Her talents could be useful to the Order. But if they ever fell into the wrong hands…" She shuttered. "I was not keen on the idea. However, I trust Dumbledore. He believes Claira can master the spell if given proper instruction. Nothing would convince her otherwise." She tossed her hands up in the air. "It was either I teach Claira or have her go it alone. How could I refuse?"

The wounds beneath Claira's hands had almost mended. Severus knelt on the opposite side of her and watched her with a close eye, noting the strain in her expression and stiffness of her body.

Madam Pomfrey appeared to have noticed it as well. "I think that is enough for tonight, Claira. You have done beautifully."

Claira's voice quivered. "No, Poppy. Please, I can finish. I want… I want Severus to see how far I've come. I can do this… I can…"

Her body gave a sudden jolt, as if she had been struck by lightning. She crumbled to the ground. Severus leapt over the porlock and lifted her partially into his lap, his heart pounding.

"Out of the way," Poppy demanded, pushing past Hagrid. "Let me see her."

She checked Claira's pulse and breathing, and performed a few quick spells with her wand.

"Every time!" she muttered. "She is fine, Severus. Just exhausted all her energy. I've told her time and again not to push her limits." She poked her wand at him. "And you! Barreling in unannounced. You should have known she'd try to impress you. I forbid you to attend any more of her practices. You are an unwelcome distraction. Come, bring her to the infirmary."

Severus sneered at her but said nothing, concentrating instead on navigating his way back to the castle. In the distance there was a crack, as if someone had apparated. Poppy dismissed it as a disturbance from the forest, but Severus could not help but wonder if another had been present that night, watching as he had from the shadows. An unknown dread crept through his veins. If the Dark Lord were to learn of this extraordinary power Claira possessed he would, without doubt, want to wield it to his own advantage. The consequences of that were such he refused to believe his own ears. It had to be something else. Anything else. He tightened his jaw and moved on, holding Claira close to his chest.

* * *

The following weeks passed without further incident. Severus had settled comfortably, if not happily, into his new schedule. His mornings and afternoons were spent teaching his craft. Evenings were occlumency lessons with Claira or, when she was kept busy in the hospital wing, he would occupy his time in his laboratory. What had once been a void in his life, nights had become the most meaningful time of his existence. They were now spent making love with Claira; sharing his bed, his thoughts, his desires and his passions.

He had almost forgotten about his past goals: his strife to earn notoriety and advance into the Ministry of Magic where his talents would be of importance. It wasn't until Albus called for a surprise meeting in the staff room one evening that he was reminded of his future objectives, and also his plans with Claira.

The staff shuffled inside in pairs, whispering and looking onto Dumbledore with interest. Severus and Claira were two of the last to enter the staff room. They sat apart - a new routine they had adopted to help douse the rising suspicion of their love affair amongst their peers. Dumbledore began the meeting with an overview of their last discussion, including uniform policy and the increasing number of young witches wearing skirts that were two inches too short.

"I must ask that each Head of House keep a watchful eye on their students and take the appropriate action when these infractions occur," he concluded minutes later. "Now, I have an important announcement to make. I have just been informed that a Hogwarts teacher has been awarded the Order of Merlin, for his recent innovation and contribution to the Ministry of Magic."

Severus's stomach tightened.

Dumbledore lifted a scroll from his robe pocket. "Let us please put our hands together for our very own… Professor Snape!"

Severus stood to applause and took the scroll from Dumbledore's hand. He unrolled it and greedily read the contents. The ceremony was to take place in two weeks. There would be a private engagement followed by a small celebration held at the Minister's mansion, open to a small assortment of family and friends. Some of the Ministry's most influential people would attend as well.

The jubilation Severus felt overwhelmed him. The clapping and people all around him blurred, and the only thought with him that moment was to find an outlet in which to exhaust his excitement. Searching the group, his eyes locked on the one person he knew would understand, who knew what he wanted, needed. He pushed through the shuffle of bodies, the buzzing voices congratulating him, and swept Claira up in his arms.

He scarcely heard Dumbledore dismiss the meeting on their way out the door. Once around the corner, out of sight, their mouths collided and Severus had Claira pinned to the wall, his hands in her hair, over her body, beneath her skirt. That night he learned the true meaning of reckless abandon, as he was prepared to take her there on the spot. Luck be it, she had enough sense to stop him just as footsteps approached.

"Severus, not here," she whispered, her eyes swollen with passion.

They stole away into the shadows and took the secret passages to the dungeons, then down to his study. With the lock in place, they were in each other's arms again, stripping off the clothing between them. Severus lacked the discipline to reach his bedchamber and so pulled her down onto the rug in front of the fireplace.

"I am so proud of you," she hummed in his ear, the same instant he buried his hips between her waiting thighs.

He would make love to her four times that night, each matching the intensity of the flames raging in the hearth. It would become the most treasured memory he kept in his pensieve.

Somehow they had managed to move to his bed, hours later. In the heart of the night, as Claira lay asleep in his arms, Severus kissed her temple and smiled. He felt as though he had the world at his fingertips. With a beautiful woman at his side, an abundance of wealth in his pocket, a respected name in the wizarding world, and the promise of a new career on his doorstep, he had become master of his universe. He would very soon have everything he wanted…

But just as those thoughts took hold, reality swooped down with a dagger and plunged it into his gut. He would have it all, that is, minus one. Claira. Severus had always known he could not keep her, but it never truly sunk in until that moment. He had at last reached the fork in the road; the time had come to part ways with his past and pursue his future. She could not follow where he planned to go.

His eyes moved to her face, but he found it painful to look at her.

Two weeks, Severus promised himself. He would have to be rid of her before the ceremony, before the Ministry of Magic could catch wind of his affair with a muggleborn. No doubt it would hurt her terribly, but to continue would hurt his chances for the Department of Defense position all the more. Besides, he thought, hardening his heart, he would have his pick of women the instant the Order of Merlin was set in his hand. He would find a new one of pure blood, one to match his caliber. Perhaps even one of greater beauty.

He did not sleep well that night.

Nor would he sleep well for the many nights that followed.


	41. No More I Love You's

Chapter: 40

**No More I Love You's**

It was the eve of the ceremony. The days had come and gone, and the inevitable was upon Severus sooner than he cared to acknowledge. He had tried to make the best of what little time they had left, but found he had been distancing himself from Claira with each passing day, whether it was from guilt or to prepare himself for the disconnection. He avoided eye contact whenever possible, stealing affection in the dark and then excusing himself afterwards to a pile of essays. Many times in those two weeks he had tried to end it but held out for one more kiss, that one last touch. But that night, he decided, would be their final embrace.

Claira came to him during their lunch hour, when he had tried to pass the time alone in his study. She carried with her a bundle in her arms and a wide grin on her face. He kept his eyes on the parchment in front of him, as he sat behind his desk.

"Well?" she beamed, "What do you think?"

He was forced to look up at her. His chest tightened at the sight of her holding up a party dress for his approval.

"It's a dress."

She chuckled. "I know it's a dress, silly. It's for your party tomorrow. So? Will it match your dress robes or not?"

"It makes no difference whether or not it does," he drawled, lowering his gaze back to the parchment. "You will not be going."

It took a moment for Claira to recover from the shock. "What do you mean I won't be going?"

"I mean," he said, reaching into his desk drawer for an inkbottle, "that you have not been invited. It's just as well, my dear. You would be bored out of your wits."

He did not need to look at her to know her cheeks were reddening. He had come to know her well enough for that. In a moment tears would be forming in her eyes.

She sniffled. "None of the others have received an invitation either, and they will all be at the party. I don't understand. Why don't you want me to come?"

"I am saving you from a night of misery, Claira." He dared a glance at her. Just as he suspected, she was pouting like a child. "These are not your kind of people."

To his surprise, however, her voice was anything but passive. "I don't' care how bored or how miserable or how priggish everyone will be, as your girlfriend I should be there to support you. This is your special night and I want to share it with you."

"I said 'no'." He stood from his desk and leaned over it, his eyes mirroring his annoyance. "I do not wish to discuss this further. You may address it again tonight if you want, but I warn you my answer will remain the same. Now if you will excuse me, I have a class to teach."

His cloak whipped behind him as he strode to the door and slammed it shut behind him.

* * *

Severus regretted losing his temper with her later that night, as he sat alone in his study. Claira had not come to him. This was not how he had wanted their final night to end. He took another swallow of Firewhiskey and set his goblet aside. The natural course of action would be to go to her and apologize, he thought, but how could he do so without changing his position? If she stepped one toe out of line at the party, his reputation would be ruined.

He reached for his goblet again.

There had to be an agreeable compromise.

He thought about the alternative. Perhaps Claira deserved a fancy outing for all she had endured from him. He had not been the perfect gentleman to her, nor had he been honest about his intentions. What else was there but to trust her to follow a given set of instructions, if in return he was given his last night of lovemaking?

And so it was with this mindset that Severus stood before her door at a quarter to midnight. He let himself in and found her sitting in front of her small fireplace, her knees drawn to her chest, arms hugging her legs. He approached her with caution and kneeled beside her, his arm stretching across her back. She had tears in her eyes, and continued to stare into the fire as if he were invisible.

He gently kissed her bare shoulder. "Forgive me."

It took her a few moments to speak, but when she did her emotions spilled from her lips. "I know why you don't want me to come to your party…. You are embarrassed of me."

"Don't be ridiculous," he lied, however stunned that she had worked it out. Claira was evolving, and he knew he could no longer rely on petty tactics to fool her. "What man would not be proud to be seen with such a beautiful young woman? I see now that I was wrong to make assumptions for you. Come to the party if you please, but if you escape without boredom it would be a miracle."

She looked at him, and he could have sworn she peered right through to his very soul. His heart accelerated in beat, but settled when she whispered, "Do you mean it?"

"Of course," he replied coolly, stroking her cheek.

He kissed her then, and she fell into his arms without another word. Her exceptional ability to forgive so easily was something he would always admire. She was an incredible woman and a wonderful companion, full of love, trust and honesty, and he knew deep down in his heart that he would miss her madly.

"Come to bed with me?" he murmured against her lips.

When she nodded her head he lifted her off the floor and carried her to the edge of her bed. As she slid down his body he grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up over her head, pausing to soak in the rounded curves of her body, the beauty of her delicate form. He then undressed and laid her down, and moved on top of her to feel the softness of her skin beneath his naked body. Kissing her sweet mouth was an activity he never grew tired of, and that night was no different. She was warm and accepting, and together they tasted, caressed, and enjoyed each other until the need to become one overpowered them both.

He entered her with a tender thrust and lost himself in the woman he had come to know so well. Together they shared their most intimate time of lovemaking.

It ended sooner than he had planned, but they had the rest of the night to satisfy each other's craving. Desire was the one thing that never lacked between them. In the morning he would wake up a new man with new wants and cares, but that night he belonged to Claira and she to him.

* * *

Claira awoke the next morning to an empty bed. She glanced at the clock and sighed. Severus had already left for London. He had acted strange last night, she thought, in the way he spoke and touched her. She had never known him to be so considerate or eager to please. He had always been a wonderful lover, but last night was different. Her internal radar was spinning out of control, however she could not see why or what he meant by it all. She could only hope it was a sign that he had finally come to terms with his feelings and was ready to commit to a serious relationship.

She smiled.

The smile lasted throughout the morning and into the afternoon. When evening came and her duties were fulfilled, Claira dashed up the staircase to her room and prepared for the party. Her dress had been hand selected by Morgana, the old witch who had sold her the overpriced gown for the Yule Ball. Claira had to give her credit for her gorgeous designs and quality fabrics, and Claira had never seen clothes sewn so nicely. The gown she had worn that evening was deep blue, ankle-length and complimented with laces in just the right places, not too flashy but attention grabbing. The color brought out her eyes, and it was fitted to hug her waist and shoulders. Looking into the mirror Claira gasped at the beauty of the piece. All that was left was to do up her hair and meet the others in the entrance hall.

Her heart pattered as she put on the finishing touches: a few pinches of glitter dust to her curls and Severus's necklace. She had a feeling that night would be one to remember.

Downstairs, Claira followed several of the teachers out onto the grounds. Professor McGonagall remained at Hogwarts to oversee the students, while Dumbledore led them to the entrance gates. The group buzzed with conversation; the women were excited to attend a fancy party, Claira most of all but more so to see Severus in the spotlight he deserved.

The others apparated ahead of Claira, who did not have her apparation license.

Dumbledore took her arm in his.

"Thank you, Albus," Clara smiled at him.

"You look absolutely exquisite tonight, my dear." He gave her a little wink, and apparated them both to Fudge Manor.

It was a grand manor, almost twice the size of Severus's home. The many windows glowed bright and lit the front lawn, which had been cleared of snow for the guests. Dumbledore had been gracious enough to help her with a strong warming charm early on, as a silk dress was suicide in the chills of winter. They walked together as a group through the gates and up the lawn. Ahead Claira saw a tall, dark figure approaching. It appeared as though he had been awaiting their arrival. As he neared, Claira's necklace began to glow a brilliant blue and she recognized him then as Severus, even before his face was revealed in the moonlight.

He looked agitated.

"Thank you all for coming," he said briskly, just before taking Claira's arm from Albus and waving him, and the rest, on ahead.

When the others were out of earshot, Severus spun on her. "Listen to me carefully, Claira. There are some very important men from the Ministry here tonight. As such it is crucial that you act accordingly. "There was no kindness in his voice that night. "You will speak only when spoken to. If the subject becomes something other than a general topic I want you to excuse yourself immediately. Under no circumstance are you to speak of our relationship to anyone – "

"Severus! What has gotten into you – "

"Furthermore," he interrupted, his eyes wild and darting about. "You are not to approach me unless I summon you to my side. Is that clear?"

Claira was speechless. She could not believe he was speaking to her that way, as if she were a naughty child.

"Is that clear?!" he growled through his teeth.

Claira nodded her head only to calm him. She wanted to say more, but he turned away from her.

He took a few steps, and then spun back around. "And take that silly necklace off before someone sees."

Claira stood alone as he hurried off to the manor and disappeared inside. Her fingers shook as she unhooked the clasp of her necklace, the gift he had given her for Christmas. She forced herself to believe Severus was nervous, that he was not in his right mind. Social gatherings were not his cup of tea, and the pressure of dealing with people of influence was causing him to speak irrationally. Claira bit back her tears and moved forward. There was no turning back now, especially since she was miles away from Hogwarts and had no way of getting home.

Once through the door, she followed a line into the ballroom and became absorbed in the crowd. To her left an unmanned band of instruments played softy. To her right was an enormous buffet, and straight ahead, on the far end of the room, was Severus. Four other well-dressed men, all of whom looked arrogant, powerful, and deeply submerged in their drinks, surrounded him. She stared at Severus. He was not himself, or at least the man she knew him to be. His mannerisms had changed to mimic those of the men around him. He looked just as lordly and pompous as they did.

It was then that she knew her fears were not unfounded. The differences between them had never been more apparent to her than they were in that moment. Severus was a wealthy pureblood man, and she was a poor muggleborn girl. She did not think such prejudices still existed, but as she looked around the room and noticed the way some of the people were watching her, as if she were a filthy stain on the carpet, she realized that she was mistaken.

She felt uncomfortable beneath their stares, some of them lewd from men who might have thought she'd make a tasty side dish. Severus was right. These were not her kind of people.

She shivered.

It had just occurred to her that Severus fancied himself as one of them, or at least he was attempting to integrate himself within their circle. The thought made her ill.

The loud tapping of a wine glass silenced the ballroom. All eyes moved to Cornelius Fudge, who stood beside Severus. She saw Severus glance at her, but then he quickly looked away.

"Now, if you please, let us all make a toast to Severus Snape; a man of great intelligence, who has made an outstanding contribution to the Ministry of Magic in these recent months. This morning he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class for his works in the field of alchemy, and we hope to very soon see more discoveries from him first hand." He gave Severus a private wink.

Severus held his glass up and bowed, and then downed it in one swallow. The crowd applauded and tilted their glasses, and the men around him clapped him on the back.

Pinky's words echoed in Claira's head just then. _"Master Snape is only coming home on holidays and some days in summertime. Pinky is lonely. But Master is telling Pinky he might soon be coming home for longer times. Master is telling Pinky he is leaving Hogwarts."_

Claira now understood what Pinky meant. Severus planned to leave Hogwarts to work for the Ministry of Magic. What did that mean for their relationship? Would there be a place for her in his new life? Claira felt as though her world was unraveling around her.

"Just look at him," came a catty voice from behind her. "He's a magnificent man, isn't he? You were lucky to be one of his playthings for the time it lasted."

Claira whirled around, her cheeks burning. "I am not one of his playthings, Teresa. Severus cares about me."

"Is that what he told you?" She chuckled and took a sip from her wine glass. "You poor, sweet, innocent thing you. If you are so dear to him, why then do you stand over here and not by his side?"

Claira could not answer.

Teresa laughed. "Hmm, let me guess. He told you to keep at a distance and your mouth shut tonight. Am I right?"

Claira's face felt like an inferno, but again she could find no argument.

"It's not your fault, I suppose." She took another casual sip of wine. "How could you have known he'd drop you like a sack of beetle dung the moment his career took off?"

Claira clenched her fists. "He has done no such thing. You are just jealous because you want him for yourself. Severus told me all about it. He turned you down flat, and now you can't stand that he's in love with me! A simple muggleborn."

Teresa's smile faded. "Face it, Claira. Severus Snape is not capable of love. He only cares about himself."

"That's not true," Claira argued, feeling as though she had the upper hand now. "You don't know him as I do, and you never will."

Her smiled returned. "If you are so sure of his feelings for you, why don't you introduce yourself to his friends? I'm sure they'd love to meet you, the woman who beat Severus Snape into submission. Or are you afraid of how he might react if you disobeyed his little rules?"

"I'm not afraid," Claira fumed.

"What are you waiting for then?" Teresa challenged. "Go on, prove me wrong."

Claira knew she shouldn't have let Teresa goat her, but at the same time she refused to slink away from the fight. She was tired of everyone treating her like a child. On the other hand, she also wanted to prove to herself that she meant more to Severus than some silly job title. If he truly loved her, now was the time to show it.

His eyes met hers as she approached.

He looked stunned, almost frightened as she got nearer. Her heart began to beat loudly against her chest. This was it, she thought, the moment of truth. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, right in the middle of the group of men.

"I beg your pardon, madam!" said one of them, wiping away the splash of wine from his robes.

"I'm sorry," Claira peeped, her confidence slipping.

They all stared down at her as if she were some odd creature they had never seen before. Severus's face was now a blank canvas, his eyes unwavering. She waited for him to introduce her, but he said nothing.

"Professor," asked another, "do you know this girl?"

He looked away from her, and cleared his throat. "Yes, she is… one of the nurses at Hogwarts. Cornelius, you may remember her as the girl who first tested the potion?"

Cornelius rubbed his chin. "Ah, yes, so it is."

Twelve pairs of eyes began to shift back and forth between Claira and Severus.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen," Severus said coolly. "I do believe those lovely young ladies over there are beckoning me. I mustn't keep them waiting."

One of the men raised his glass to him. "Rightly so. As I understand it, Witch Weekly has deemed you this month's most eligible bachelor. Err, my wife's magazine, of course."

Severus grinned and left them to join a small group of women who were waving at him. They were all smiles as their eyes gobbled up his high-priced robes, no doubt tailored by Morgana. He flashed Claira a look, and glared at her for a moment before introducing himself to the women, kissing each of their hands.

Claira's heart dissolved into her stomach.

The other men turned their backs to her and closed their circle, leaving Claira to stand alone in shame. Teresa was nowhere to be seen. It all felt like some hellish nightmare.

The room began to spin.

Claira knew she had to get away before she broke down in tears. She fled for the door and escaped out onto the lawn. The cold night air burned her skin, but there was nothing to do for it. She had left her wand in her chamber, thinking she would have no need for it. Claira now regretted her decision to leave her wand, and Hogwarts… and to have ever trusted her heart to Severus Snape!

"_Cornelius, you may remember her as the girl who first tested the potion?" _

His words echoed in her ears. He had introduced her as the girl who tested the potion - not as his lover, not even as his friend. She could not stop the tears from falling. The grass felt like icicles beneath her knees.

Just then, someone placed a tender hand on her shoulder.

"I was just on my way back to Hogwarts," said a kind voice. "I thought you might like to come with?"

Claira nodded her head, but she kept her tears hidden. "Albus, I –"

"Hush now," he murmured softly. "There is no need to explain."

She took his arm and within moments they were in view of Hogwarts. Dumbledore wrapped her in his warm cloak and walked her to the castle. They did not speak, and for this Claira was most grateful.

Inside the entrance hall, she removed his cloak and handed it back to him. As he took it, he captured her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you, Albus," Claira whispered, before dashing up the stairs to her chamber.

* * *

Severus arrived at the gates of Hogwarts an hour later, when the guests had begun to leave and he was able to slip away without much notice. He had kept his composure most of the night, but as he neared the doors of the castle he was visibly shaking with rage. Claira had disobeyed him. Not only that, her little stunt had caused an explosion of gossip, the whole of which he had to spend the remainder of the evening attempting to extinguish. He may or may not have been successful. Only time would tell.

He stormed into the entrance hall.

Dumbledore met him at the foot of the staircase leading to Claira's room.

"How was your night, Severus?" He smiled.

"Not now, Albus."

Dumbledore, who was surprisingly light on his feet, sidestepped to block his path. "Ah, such festivities do tend to leave one fatigued, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps the wiser course of action would be to turn in for the night?"

"This does not concern you, Albus." Severus gritted his teeth. "Kindly step aside."

Dumbledore's eyes were pleading. "Severus, I urge you to take a moment to think about what it is you are about to –"

"If I had wanted your advice I would have asked for it," Severus hissed. "I will not ask you again to let me pass."

Dumbledore hesitated, but in the end he knew it was not his place to meddle in such affairs. He stepped aside, and frowned as Severus hurried up the stairs.

* * *

Claira sat on the edge of her bed, brushing the glitter out of her hair. Her face was red from weeping, and her eyes were swollen. The dress she had worn lay on her dresser, but the slip remained as she did not have the strength to take it off just yet. She found it difficult to breath, let alone think about what had happened. Deep down, Claira knew what had to be done.

Severus had hurt her for the last time.

What a fool she was to think she could change him, that he had wanted anything more from her than a warm body. She could now see that all those acts of kindness, all those sweet words he had spoken to her, were lies. He had denied his embarrassment of her the night before, but everything that happened at the party told her differently. How could she believe anything he had said to her in the past? There was no explaining it away this time. She was done making excuses for his rotten behavior.

And yet after all that had transpired, after all the grief he had caused her, her heart still ached for him. Love was a curse, she thought. She should have slapped him and threw wine in his face, like those strong, independent women did in films, but instead she had run away.

She set her brush down and stood to pull back the covers on her bed. Part of her had expected Severus to come after her, perhaps had even wanted him to, but now she thought it was for the best that he hadn't. She wanted to be alone to think about her future, and how she would deal with him in the morning.

She was not prepared for Severus to burst through her door at that moment, nor to have him slam the door so hard behind him that the bed shook.

"I told you not to approach me at the party," he snarled, advancing on her. "What the devil were you thinking? Explain yourself!"

Claira had been startled by his intrusion. When she did not respond as quickly as he had wanted he grabbed her by the arms and shook her.

"I… I don't know!" she cried.

She tried to push him away but he stood his ground.

"I never should have allowed you to come," he spat. "Your lack of restraint may well have cost me everything I've worked to achieve."

His hands began to slide up her shoulders to her throat. His eyes were blacker than she had ever seen them.

"Why did you disobey me?" He shouted. "Answer me!"

She felt his fingers tighten around her neck, but then he released her and turned his attention to her nightstand. He lifted it with ease and threw it across the room where it smashed into her mirror. The necklace and the rose he had once given her tumbled out of the drawer and came to rest on the splinters of wood and shards of broken glass.

Claira stumbled backwards against the wall, frightened of his violence. He turned back around to face her, and placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head to block her from escaping. The outburst had weakened him. He was out of breath and his arms were shaking, and his words were whispered when he rested his forehead against hers.

"I told you how important this night was to me. I trusted you to listen." He closed his eyes. "Why, Claira? Why did you do it?"

Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Teresa called me your plaything. She said you didn't care about me. I wanted to prove her wrong. I … I wanted to prove to myself that she was wrong."

His eyes tore open. "Teresa? You stupid girl! She would have wanted to see me fail after I had dismissed her. Did it not occur to you that she might try to use you against me?"

His anger had returned, as well as his strength. He pounded his fist against the wall and sparks erupted from his knuckles. "I should not have given into my desire for you last night. I should have ended it when I had the chance."

He moved away from her.

"What do you mean you should have ended it when you had the chance?" The heat rose to Claira's face. "How long have you been planning this? Teresa was right, wasn't she?"

He gave her a cold, heartless laugh. "Perhaps you are not as ignorant as I was led to believe. I admit that for a time I was taken by your beauty, but I think now you've proved more trouble than your worth." His tone lowered. "I had become greedy over you. I should have stopped this madness before it reached this point, but I wanted one final night with you. That was my mistake."

It felt as thought the air had been sucked out of her chest. "This was all a game to you, wasn't it? You never loved me."

"Love?" He said with distaste. "You foolish girl. I never once promised you a commitment of my feelings. I did what I had to; I said what I had to, to get you to submit to me. You mean nothing to me. I love nothing."

Claira felt the life drain from her body. Love was the only hope she had left for him. She would have given up everything she had established for herself. She would have followed him anywhere. She might have even forgiven him, but without love there was nothing left to hold on to but a selfish, heartless man.

She closed her eyes, denying him the pleasure of seeing her tears.

"Get out," she whispered, trembling.

Silence.

The energy of the room diminished. The invisible bond that had formed between had been broken. They both felt it and shivered.

Somehow Claira found the strength to make it to the door. She opened it and turned away from him. "Get out now."

The anger Severus had arrived with had lessened. His feet now felt like lead, but pride forced him to move. He would not look at her as he passed. This was what he had intended, he told himself. To look at her would have shown weakness. Instead he stood tall and marched past her like a proud soldier, his head held high. But when the door locked behind him and he heard her body slump against it, and heard her cry with such fierceness that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, he stopped dead. His chest began to burn with a pain that almost brought him to his knees. He put his hand on the door for support.

If he had waited his anger out before going to her things might have ended differently. Or would they have? Would he ever have been able to release her under any other circumstance? It was for the best, he told himself. Claira had become too attached. He had become overly fond of her as well. He would have had to lock her away in a closet to keep their affair hidden from the world. His decision had been made, and he chose a life with the Ministry of Magic: a life of wealth, honor, and reverence. To break Claira's heart was the only way to detach himself from whatever power she held over him.

The walk to his chambers was long and gut wrenching. Even as he downed the remaining bottle of Firewhiskey and slunk into his bed he felt as though he were still standing in front of her door, listening to her weep. He could almost hear her repeating his name over and over again.

Severus told himself again that he had done the logical thing. He had severed any chance of reconciliation by allowing her to end it on her own will. Hate would have to replace whatever love she had for him if she was to move on.

He rolled over onto his side.

Did she not deserve his cruelty? Was it not she who had stepped out of bounds at the party after he had been so considerate as to let her attend in the first place? She had brought all this upon herself. It was her own fault for loving him the way she had. He had not asked for her to come to Hogwarts and disrupt his plans. He was content with his life before she had come along, minus the hold the Dark Lord had on him before Claira had broken it, and it was time he returned to his life of solitude. He had no need for her before, and he had no need for her now.

That night his nightmares returned.

**Next chapter is in production! Thank you all for your kind feedback.**


	42. Only the Lonely

Chapter: 41

**Only the Lonely**

Severus woke up screaming and clawing at his covers. Sweat covered his body from head to toe. He gasped for air, and stared through the darkness of his bedchamber for some unseen horror. It was only a nightmare. His hand absently stretched out for Claira's small, warm body for comfort, but she was not there.

Three weeks had passed since he'd last seen her, and still he reached for her in the night. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands. Countless times he had to remind himself of what he had done, of all the hurtful words he had spoken to her to make her absent from his bed. He regretted them now. The morning after the party, when his head had cleared, he realized how wrong it was of him to have used his anger as a means to an end. Claira did not deserve to be treated so cruelly, or to have been punished for behaving like a woman in search of the truth.

But there was nothing to be done for it. His decision remained the same, and whether or not he had done a poor job of it was beside the point.

As for Claira, she had been careful not to be present at meals. She had also managed to be excused from staff meetings. Had it not been for the occasional mention of her name he might have thought he'd dreamt up her existence.

He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and sifted through the empty bottles of sleeping draughts for a full one, but he had downed them all within a week's time. His dependency on sleeping potions appeared to have returned with the nightmares, as well as his restlessness. He rolled out of bed and put on his robes, and left his chambers to walk the corridors. It was once a common practice of his as a means to tire him out when his stock of draughts had been depleted, but that was before he'd found peace in Claira's arms.

He shook the thought of her out of his head.

Once upon a time he had enjoyed the exercise and mild thrill of catching students out of bed, why should now be any different? Of course it sorely lacked in comparison to the nightly activity of making love with a beautiful young woman, but it would suffice. And if all else failed, he still had the options provided by his liquor cabinet and a stash of Play Wizard magazines hidden beneath his mattress.

His eyes moved to a familiar wooden door, and he stopped. Every muscle in his body tightened. His journey had led him right to Claira's chamber. Like so many other nights.

His fingers lightly traced her door handle. The urge to look in on her was overwhelming. Was she having trouble sleeping without him as well? That abysmal fireplace of hers was hardly large enough to warm her body from the chills of winter. She needed someone to hold her.

He snatched his hand away from her door, as if it had burned him. What was he thinking? He couldn't. She wouldn't…

And so Firewhiskey it was.

It would be precisely a month to the day before he saw her again. He had overheard Albus tell Minerva at the end of the last staff meeting that it was time for Claira to rejoin them at the dinner table. So Severus took his seat at the head table that night, feeding on small bites of this and that, telling himself that seeing her face once again would have no affect on him. Whatever feelings he might have had towards her had been defeated with the passing of time. He drank deeply from his goblet of wine.

His eyes darted to her seat and back again to his plate.

Then again to her seat, and there she was.

The shock of it sent a jolt of electricity through his entire body. His heart began to pound in his ears. She did not look at him as she sat down, but he could see she had dark rings around her eyes. And she had thinned. Not excessively, but noticeably so. He forced his eyes back onto his plate and reached for his goblet, and as his wrist extended out of his sleeve he noticed that he too had lost weight, but only a pound or two. He looked at her again.

Time had changed nothing. His desire for her was just as strong, if not stronger now that he had not touched her in so long. He watched her pick at her food, oblivious to everyone and everything around her. Her eyes were set on her plate, almost forcibly so. She did not acknowledge him, and yet somehow he knew she wanted to.

He wanted her to.

He wanted to see that subtle gleam in her eyes, the one she held for him. He wanted many things in that moment, none of which were remotely possible.

Then it happened. Her head lifted, and her eyes slowly rose to meet his. The once vibrant blue in her eyes had lost its sparkle. Her stare was empty, as if her soul had abandoned her body. She was a broken woman, a mere shell of the girl he had known.

The pain in his chest was almost unbearable. But then he saw it, a faint shimmer in her eyes just before she looked away. He watched her choke back tears until she could no longer hold them. They trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and stood from the table, and then hurried out of the great hall. Madam Pomfrey shot him a look that would have frightened the Devil, and rushed after her.

Another two week would pass before he saw Claira again.

Dumbledore had requested a private meeting in his office, in which he did not cast judgment or demand an explanation, but had in fact ordered Severus to make amends with Claira. Claira had agreed to resume attendance at dinner and staff meetings, he had been told, with the understanding that he was to be civil towards her. Severus had attempted to interrupt him at this point, but had been silenced.

Dumbledore went on to explain the importance of friendly staff relations, and that although he was aware of Severus and Claira's prior romantic interactions, he asked that they try to put their personal issues aside and try to reach an agreeable level of communication.

"I will do my best, Albus," was Severus's response. "However, I am not certain whether Claira shall ever speak to me again."

However she had come to him three days later, at the end of his afternoon lesson. She brought a box of ingredients to replenish his stores due to a recent bombardment of students infected with the flu virus. He had taken supplies from his private store to keep up with demand. It had been agreed upon by Dumbledore to compensate his losses.

The students were busy clearing away their cauldrons and turning in their vials when Claira entered through the door. Severus was too occupied to greet her, and so could only watch with stilled breath as she disappeared into the storeroom. He hurried the students along with a fierce glare and threatening tone, and when the last of them scurried out of sight he dashed to the storeroom before Claira could evade him.

She had her back to him as he entered. He did not speak at first, but watched quietly as she placed a handful of Gurdyroots with his stock of Mudroot. They were very similar in appearance.

"It is the second shelf to the bottom left, if you please," he said.

Her body stiffened at the nearness of his voice, then relaxed. "Yes, I see it now. Sorry."

He took a step closer. "There is no need to apologize."

She grabbed up the misplaced roots and stacked them in her arms, but they were too many and some of them tumbled over onto the floor. They both reached down to retrieve the roots, and their hands brushed. She pulled her hand back and turned away from him.

"Forgive me," he pleaded softly.

She set the roots on the shelf without looking at him. "No, it's… I'm okay, really."

He approached her and placed his hand on the shelf above her head, and the other on the edge of the table near her hip. His shadow moved over her, his face just inches away from her ear and the curve of her neck. "Are you?" he whispered from behind, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"Severus, don't," she breathed.

She spun around to duck underneath his arm. He lowered it to block her escape.

"Don't what?" he murmured, moving closer so that their bodies nearly touched. "You mean this?"

He reached out to stroke her cheek, but she pushed his hand away.

"I'm not yours to touch anymore, remember?" Her voice was alarmingly cold.

Severus froze. "I understand you are upset with me, Claira. My actions that night were… inexcusable. And I know I hurt you." He raised his hand to her face again, and this time he was able to touch it before she jerked her head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Let me explain. Tonight. Come to my study, Claira. I will tell you everything you need to know."

"Not this time, Severus," she whispered. "I won't be fooled by your tricks. I know them all now."

He could not resist the urge to touch her. It was an itch that demanded to be scratched. His hand slipped beneath her chin and he titled her face up to look at him. "No more tricks, Claira. I only wish to apologize."

His fingers moved over her cheek and across the swell of her lips, and down her neck to her collarbone. She closed her eyes, but tears leaked from the corners of her eyelids. "Severus, please stop. I can't do this again."

He wove his fingers through her hair and cradled the back of her head in his hands, and touched his lips to hers. "Yes, you can. Come to my study tonight. I will explain everything."

His kiss was soft, but she fought against it. So he pressed her harder, hugging and pulling her body against his. It took a few moments but she stopped struggling and melted into his arms, and returned his kiss.

But then she suddenly pulled her mouth away and pushed her hands against his chest, and she sobbed. "Why are you doing this to me? You told me you don't love me, Severus. You said I mean nothing to you. What more do you want from me? I have already given you everything."

She squirmed out of his hold, but he caught her by the arm. "Don't walk away from me, Claira. Not now. Not when I am trying to give you the answers."

She buried her face in her hands and leaned against the table.

He cleared his throat. "I admit I was not honest with you about the party. When you accused me of being embarrassed of you – "

Claira glared at him. "I was right –"

"Let me finish," he said coolly. "I think now you realize that certain prejudices are still alive and thriving. You were without doubt the most beautiful girl in the ballroom, but if those men from the Ministry of Magic had found out about you and I they would have discarded my application. It is no secret now that I have set my career sights on the Department of Magical Defenses?"

She slowly nodded.

"So then you understand why I could not introduce you as my lover."

Claira frowned. "I am still a muggleborn, Severus. I will _always_ be a muggleborn. Nothing has changed."

"Precisely," he said, moving closer to wipe away her tears. "Nothing has changed. My feelings for you have not changed. I thought perhaps they might, but I was mistaken."

"You've already told me how you feel," she choked.

He pulled her into his arms. She resisted. So he took her wrists in his hands and held them to his chest. "I was angry, Claira. Stop fighting me. I told you I was sorry and I meant it." He paused to collect the courage for his next words. "I miss you. There I've said it."

He released her and looked away.

She was quiet.

His eyes returned to hers and he found her staring at him. "But how is now any different for us? What about tomorrow or the next day? I can't exactly magic away my bloodline. They can still find out about me."

"The difference is," he said, closing the space between them, "I received my acceptance letter from the Ministry of Magic two weeks ago. It has already been returned with my signature. Come September I assume my position in the Department of Magical Defenses. It is much more difficult and unlikely for them to cast me out now, then it was for them to invite me in."

Claira's mouth opened and closed.

"I see." Her eyes were a pool of pain and sadness. "Congratulations, Severus. You got what you wanted."

"No, you don't understand." He cupped her face in his hands. "I want you to come with me, Claira."

"How?" she gasped.

He took a deep breath. "I have purchased a handsome cottage for you near my manor in Ravenscar. You can decorate it however you like." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You won't ever have to work or want for anything. I will provide for you. All you have to do is say yes."

She looked confused, overwhelmed. "You did all this without asking me first?"

He shrugged. "It was worth a gamble."

"Severus," she asked, her face imperturbable. "Why couldn't I live with you and Pinky in your manor?"

His eyes shifted to the floor. "Yes, that. It is not a matter of the Ministry finding out, if that is what you think. No, it is much more involved." He turned away from her and leaned his body against the shelves, his head bowed. "You see, apart from my own earnings there are two more vaults to my name. I do not have full claim to them until my Mother's death. You have an idea of what my mother thinks of me, no doubt, by what you saw of her in the pensieve?"

She nodded.

"What you do not know is that during my holiday stay at Snape Manor she threatened me with Marital Decree Number Thirteen, which would grant her authority to elect a spouse if I am not wed to a pureblood woman by my forty-seventh birthday."

Claira squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with her hand

"It is an outdated decree but it is nevertheless legitimate. My Mother then tried to arrange a marriage between a girl from another pureblood family and myself. I thwarted her attempt of course," he grinned to himself. "However, she retaliated by amending her will to force the decree upon me if I do not meet her demands before her death. I believe I can appeal the decree before the Wizengamot, but as a result I will forfeit my inheritance."

It was a lot of information for Claira to absorb. She rubbed her face and tried to make sense of it all. "What are you saying, Severus?"

He sighed. "I may one day have to take a wife to secure my retirement."

She looked up at him then, her expression one of disgust. "So I'm to be your kept woman, is that it?"

"No, it wouldn't be like that." He raked his hands through his hair. "The truth is more complicated than you realize."

She shook her head in disbelief.

He reached out and drew her to him. "She would mean nothing to me, Claira. Do you understand? Whomever I choose would have to accept you as my first priority. It would be more of a contract agreement than a marriage, really."

Claira broke free of him, her eyes inflamed. "What would that leave for me? What future would I have to look forward to if you gave it all to another woman?"

"It would be a means for us to be together, Claira." His voice was soft, almost a whisper. "If you truly loved me none of those other things should matter to you."

"You don't get it, do you?" Her eyes were searching, piercing, grasping. "Only one thing has ever mattered to me, Severus. I have only ever wanted one thing from you." The tears returned, but her eyes never wavered from his. "Tell me you love me, Severus. I want to here you say it."

His heart began to beat loudly in his chest, causing his ears to throb, forcing his blood to race through his veins.

"I… " His nails dug into his palms. He felt faintish. "I… care deeply for you - Don't turn away from me. I have never felt this way about anyone. I know it is not what you wanted to hear but it's all I'm capable of. It will have to be enough."

They stared into each other's eyes. For the first time he could not read her expression.

There was a knock at the door.

Claira quickly whipped the tears from her face and turned her back to it.

Severus straightened his posture. "Enter."

A bushy-haired girl in her late teens poked her head inside.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" he demanded.

Her face turned red as her eyes moved from Severus to Claira. "Um, sir, class began ten minutes ago. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I am aware of it," he lied. "Take your seat."

When she closed the door, he turned to Claira and squeezed her shoulders. "Do not be too rash with your decision. I want you to think about it before you give me an answer. I would still like you to come to my study tonight. But if you wish to be alone to consider my proposition than you are welcome to do so. I leave the decision in your hands."

He kissed the crook of her neck and left her there with her thoughts.

Three days would pass before he received her answer.

* * *

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	43. Runaway Train

**Author's note:** This story is drawing to a close, I'm afraid. Only three chapters left, four at the most. In advance, I would like to thank all of you who have stuck with me through the years, and have taken the time to leave feedback. Although stressful at times, this has been a fun experience and I know I shall miss it. And now...

Chapter: 42

**Runaway Train**

The soft click of the lock on her trunk confirmed the end of her time at Hogwarts. Claira had packed away her life in less than thirty minutes, and as she sat on her bed staring about her empty chamber she realized that she had not achieved much. What did she own but a few clothes, a handful of personal products, and the two gifts Severus had given her when their relationship was just a thing of seduction? She could not bring herself to abandon them. Regardless of how she felt towards Severus now, those gifts held fond memories that were precious to her heart.

Suitcase in hand, trunk floating freely behind her, Claira paused at the door and gave the room one last sweep with her eyes. The chamber gave no hint that anyone had either lived in or departed from it. She had left no impression on the space that was given to her.

The school was quiet as she walked alone through the winding corridors and staircases. She had not taken the time to appreciate the subtle beauty of the aged castle, and now her eyes soaked in every detail, her brain grasping desperately to remember it all.

She had not passed a single soul on her way to the entrance hall. It was midday and Hogwarts was in full function as a place of learning. The students and teachers were in their classrooms, the headmaster in his office, and Severus Snape was in his dungeons playing his role as potions professor. Her eyes darted to the dungeon door as she passed by. How many times had she entered through it on her way to see Severus? Not all memories there were pleasant ones, but there were moments of such passion the likes of which Hogwarts had never seen, and may never see again.

Claira's eyes reddened with sadness, but she had no more tears left to cry. She turned away from the door and walked out of the castle.

She hugged her coat tighter around her body as she stepped out onto the grounds. The path leading to Hogsmeade was covered with snow, and the cold, wet journey to the village was the one memory she did not hope to take with her.

When she arrived at the train station she found the gates locked and a sign above the ticket counter that read, "Snow storm. Train delayed. Next departure 10:00 pm."

Claira's shoulders slumped. She had hoped to make a clean, quiet getaway. What was she to do now for six hours? There was no going back to Hogwarts, she decided. No one noticed her leave, and she planned to keep it that way. Dumbledore knew of course, but as for the others she did not have the heart to explain.

She had no other choice but to stay in Hogsmeade. Following the narrow path leading back to the village, Claira wandered past the little shops and peered through their windows. Her luggage prevented her from going inside, so she walked the cobbled roads until her feet became sore. She settled at the Three Broomsticks with a copy of the Daily Prophet she had purchased from a street vendor. The pub was warm and comfortable, and she was able to relax at one of the back tables with her trunk and suitcase tucked underneath.

She then ordered a butterbeer and, after perusing the articles and reading nothing but watered down news written by the Ministry of Magic to calm the public's fear of the Dark Lord's return to power, she turned to the crossword puzzle section. The barmaid lent her a quill and she dove in with little else to occupy her time.

But her thoughts soon strayed to Severus.

How could he have expected her to agree to his offer? To be a kept woman in a nearby cottage, while he spent his evenings with another woman whom he married because of the pureness of her blood? And would there be a child from it? It only proved that he cared more about wealth and power than he did for her. She could never live that way, nor could she stay at the castle. Even after he had gone she would see him in the eyes of his students, walking the corridors, living all around her like a ghost haunting her dreams, and she would love him still.

It had to be now, she told herself. Otherwise, he would tempt her. He knew how to draw her in with his eyes, his voice. He knew how to touch and kiss her, and how to trick her heart into giving in.

She wondered how he would react when he found out she had gone. Would he be angry? Hurt? Besot with grief? She shook her head. Would he even care? She had seen his black eyes gleaming at her earlier from the front cover of Witch Weekly. It appeared his picture had been taken the day he received the Order of Merlin, for he was wearing the same set of dress robes he wore at the party. She could not bring herself to buy the magazine. She did not want to read about how he was now the month's crème del a crème of single witches looking for a wealthy bachelor to leech on.

He now had his pick of women. Why would he chase after a simple muggleborn who was, as he put it, more trouble than she's worth? His words tore at her heart as she tried to force her mind back on the puzzle and away from the pain.

Just then, Claira heard a familiar voice cackling from somewhere nearby. She spotted Teresa sitting at a corner table across from a large, impressive man partially dressed in shadow. He held his finger to his lips to quiet her, and they began to whisper with their heads close together. It did not look like a romantic conversation was being had.

The man suddenly spotted Claira staring at them, and he glared at her. Teresa turned her head just as Claira lifted the Daily Prophet to hide her face. Teresa Silverstone was the last person she wanted to deal with, especially after the nightmare that happened at the party. She closed her eyes and prayed that Teresa hadn't recognized her or the luggage beneath her table.

When she finally worked up enough courage to peek over the paper, Claira discovered Teresa had gone, and so had the strange man. She sighed with relief.

Soon her mug was empty, and the pub had become loud and crowded with people. So she took to roaming the village once again, where she could be alone with her thoughts. It was dark out, and snow was falling. Claira walked to the edge of the village and decided then to wait at the platform, which might provide some shelter.

She handed her ticket to the attendant and sought refuge on a bench beneath a low overhang. She had two more hours before the train arrived, and so she bundled up inside her coat and closed her eyes, and waited for the train to come and take her away. From London she would take a portkey back home to her family in the States.

Severus would then become a distant memory, a thought in the back of her mind…

She did not know how long she had slept, but she had been awoken by the sound of a faint whistle blowing. Gathering her luggage, she stood and stepped onto the platform. She saw smoke rise over the hilltop, and her heart began to beat rapidly. But it felt hollow, as if a piece of it had been left behind at the castle.

The train came into view, and then became blurred by a stream of warm tears. Part of her had been waiting for Severus to come and stop her from leaving. A part of her still wanted a fairy tale ending. She searched the platform and spotted a couple standing further down from her, wrapped in each other's arms, but that was all. No sweeping black robes. No dreamy male voice in her ear pleading for her to stay. No one was coming for her.

CRACK!

Claira spun around and spotted a tall dark figure staring at her from the shadows. Her heart leapt into her throat. Severus, she thought. But then…

CRACK!

Another dark figure stood beside him.

CRACK!

And a third man appeared, shrouded in black robes.

The hanging lamplight lit their masked faces as they approached her. She could hear their heavy, muffled breathing as they towered over her, surrounding her.

"Claira Bell, is it?" one of them asked in a deep, menacing voice.

Claira was frozen with terror. Only her eyes moved as they darted from one gruesome mask to the next. Fierce eyes stared back at her, cold, hungry.

They took her silence as confirmation of her identity. Two of them grabbed each of her arms and pulled her away from the platform. The other took hold of her luggage and followed. Before she could speak, before she could scream, her body was thrust into a violent spinning darkness. She could feel long, sharp fingernails digging into her skin as they apparated her to a place she had only ever seen in nightmares.

* * *

Severus sat alone in his study, scratching the tip of his quill across stretches of parchment as he graded essays. His eyes drifted to his hourglass and back again, wondering if there was a chance Claira would come to him with her answer that night. It had been three days since he had made the proposal, but he was confident she would agree once she had thought it through. What woman wouldn't want the world handed to her on a silver platter? So what if they had to live apart? He would lay with her in the evenings and some nights, and until he had to marry they could enjoy each other as often as she liked.

The plan was perfect.

And yet, there was a small part of him that worried she might not agree. What then? He had not thought that far ahead. She had always forgiven him. Perhaps he was taking her for granted? He knew he was taking her for granted, but he had planned to set things right once they were away from Hogwarts.

Beside him, crammed inside his desk drawer, were letters sent by owl from numerous women seeking his attention. Many of them he had met at the party; the others were from women who subscribed to Witch Weekly. He had not responded to any of their inquiries. He planned to burn the letters after he was finished with the essays, along with the copy of Witch Weekly he had purchased for his amusement. Was that not proof of his commitment to Claira? He had decided during their time apart that she was the only woman he wanted, and he was determined to have her back.

He heard the handle turn on his study door.

Straightening his posture, he looked up. Only two people had ever dared to enter his warded chambers without knocking, and they were Albus and Claira. His stare was eager, hopeful, but then faded as the intruder let go of the handle and began to pound on the door.

His gaze lowered back down to his work.

"Enter."

The door then burst opened.

"Now you've done it!" came a shrill voice. "I knew this would happen. I warned her and now - it's all your fault!"

Severus coated the tip of his quill with ink and continued scribbling. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about, Poppy. Either lower your voice and control yourself, or kindly take your leave. As you can see, I am quite busy at the moment."

"Gone!" she squawked, flailing her arms. "Claira is gone!"

Every muscle is Severus's body froze still. "What do you mean, gone?"

He was then struck in the face by a roll of parchment she had thrust at him. He opened it and read what appeared to be a resignation letter. His eyes tore from the parchment to glare at Madam Pomfrey. "What is this nonsense?"

"I told her to stay away from you," she continued, ignoring him. "And now you've run her off. No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing. Oh, but I know it was you – "

"Do shut up, woman," he snapped.

Springing from his chair, he stalked past her to the door.

"Where are you going?" she demanded. "I told you she was – "

But he had already shut the door behind him. He did not believe – would not believe that Claira had gone. She had no reason to leave Hogwarts. She had no reason to leave _him_. There had to be some mistake, Severus thought as he left the dungeons and scaled the staircases. Why would she do such a thing? Where would she go?

He turned the handle on her door, but it was locked. What happened to the protective wards he had put up? The ones that only allowed him access? He stood back from the door and raised his wand, and blasted the lock apart.

The room was cold and dark.

"Lumos," he growled.

He did not notice any immediate changes. But his hopes began to fall as he flung open her dresser drawers and found them empty. He then went to her wardrobe. It had been emptied of clothing as well. Her trunk was also missing, he realized, as he gazed about the chamber. His heart began to race. Confusion, anger, and panic quickly overtook him. What was she thinking? He leaned his arm against her wardrobe for support, and rested his forehead on his fist.

He had just received her answer.

His other fist punched the side of the wardrobe, and his knuckles began to throb with pain.

A few minutes later he was standing in front of the headmaster's office, pounding on the door much like Poppy had done to his study. The door swung opened, and Severus charged inside, teeth bared.

"Where has she gone?" he snarled.

Dumbledore gazed up at him from behind his desk. "That, I'm afraid, I cannot say."

Severus slapped his hand down upon the desk, knocking over a small whizzing device. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"Because," Dumbledore said calmly, "I gave my word that I would not. Please, sit down."

Severus glared at him, and then sat down. But then stood up. "How could you let her leave, Albus? She clearly was not in her right mind."

Severus then began to pace.

Dumbledore folded his hands together, and peered at him from above his half moon spectacles. "It is not in my power to hold anyone here, Severus. If one of my staff wishes to leave, they have the freedom to do so."

He waved his hand and the chair swung out for Severus to sit down once again. Severus kicked it out of the way, causing it to topple over.

"You could have made her see reason," he spat. "You could have talked her out of it."

Albus sighed. "Do you think I did not try?"

Severus shook his head. "Obviously not well enough."

Dumbledore's expression tightened. "Be careful, Severus. I may be willing to listen to your concerns over the girl, but I will not tolerate your rudeness."

He rose from his chair and walked over to the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"What is this really about?" he asked gently.

Severus placed his hands on the edge of the desk and bowed his head. "I don't understand her, Albus." His voice lowered to an almost whisper. "I offered her everything a woman should want; a home, security, a life of comfort… but she has refused me."

"I see," Albus said softly. "Perhaps then you have overlooked the things she truly wanted. Not all things desirable can be bought."

Severus shook his head. "I had not planned for her, Albus. I was content with my decision to work for the Ministry of Magic. I've worked nearly seventeen years to reach this point of success. And now, I have everything I ever wanted."

"Yes, you have created quite a name for yourself." Albus turned to look at him, his eyes bright and piercing. "You have reached beyond redemption and contributed something truly wonderful to the world. If there was ever a question about your worth, I believe you have proven it. But tell me this; do you feel any more satisfied for it? Can you honestly say that you are happy?"

Severus gave him a dismissive snort. "I don't understand."

His voice was warm and sincere. "I'm asking you, Severus, if you are happy."

They stared at each other in silence, and then Severus slowly shook his head, and closed his eyes. "What am I to do now?"

"I have always found in such circumstances as these, when your way forward is not always clear, it is best then to listen to your heart." He turned back to the window and peered out into the night. "I cannot make your decisions for you, but I can tell you that most of the country had severe bad weather overnight."

Severus cocked his eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Indeed, the transport situation is in chaos. Road and rail services are running with heavy delays, and in some areas are at a complete standstill." He looked down his crooked nose towards the town of Hogsmeade. "Why even the Hogwarts Express was unable to operate today."

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Ah yes, there it is now," Dumbledore mused. "It is about to depart from the looks of it. If anyone had wanted to catch it they had better hurry – "

But Severus had already left the headmaster's office in a flurry of robes.

At first his strides were cool and collected, but as he reached the double doors leading onto the grounds of Hogwarts, and heard the train's departure whistle blow, he broke into a full run towards the path leading to Hogsmeade. The moment his feet stepped outside of the boundaries of the castle's protective wards, and without stopping, he withdrew his wand and apparated to the train station.

The gates were locked. Severus could see the train just on the other side, and as it began to roll forward he leapt over the gates, ignoring the shouts from the guard at the ticket booth, and ran onto the platform. The wind whipped through his robes as he made an attempt to grab onto one of the compartment door handles, but the train was moving too fast and he stumbled backwards.

He cursed at the train, but all he could do was watch as it rode out into the night. At least if Claira had seen him through one of the windows, she would have known he had come after her. But no, he did not see her face in any of them as they passed.

He had missed her by mere seconds.

Even as the train had vanished over the hilltop, Severus stood there staring into the darkness after it. The guard approached him with his wand drawn; he was just a slight man, and a head shorter than Severus. And after taking one look at Severus's wild expression, the man turned around and dashed back to his ticket booth.

Severus sat down on one of the benches, and rubbed his face with his cold hands. The night felt surreal. He had never heard such silence. It was stale. Empty. And for the first time in years, he felt alone.

How could she demand so much of him, he thought. Her requests were such that he would have had to give up everything. His inheritance, his work, his entire way of living was impossible to uphold by her standards. Was the love of one woman truly worth all that? A feeling that could end as quickly as it had began? And was he to forfeit all for a thing of uncertainty?

"I have always found in such circumstances as these, when your way forward is not always clear, it is best then to listen to your heart."

Severus closed his eyes and listened. He heard the slight rustle of a newspaper sweeping by in the wind. He heard the wind itself, whistling to the night. And he heard a voice…

It told him to find Claira. No matter what the cost. Despite all sacrifices he must look for her and bring her back to Hogwarts.

He opened his eyes and stood, and walked back to the castle. His future was now as dark and unknown as the sky above him. His thoughts and feelings were so new, so foreign, and he wondered what would come of it all. Was this something close to what love felt like? To care about Claira so deeply that he was willing to turn the world upside down just to make her happy?

One thing was for certain; in order to keep her, he had to first get her back.

* * *


	44. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:** Just for clarification, Claira's parents are British. Claira is also British. Please reread Chapter: 38 (A New Beginning part: 2) in which Claira explains to Jacob that her parents were both born in Hampshire and lived together in Winchester, where Claira and her sister were born. They moved to the States when Claira was eleven years old, when the muggle killings began. So here parents speak British, and do so in this chapter. Claira was young enough to develop an American accent, but her speech is still very British. And yes, if Claira had gone to Hogwarts (as she had gotten her letter) Severus would have, in fact, been her potions teacher. As fate would have it (or not have it), they would not have been romantically involved had that happened.

Chapter: 43

**Lost and Found**

"Where the devil are you?" Severus muttered as he stood inside a muggle telephone box, thumbing through a handful of parchments he had obtained from the Ministry of Magic's Department of Public Records. None of the documents showed Claira as owning or leasing a residence of any sort.

He had already performed various locating spells without result, and he had even attempted an old magic known as dousing, in which he sought to pinpoint her whereabouts using two thin metal rods and a map of London, and also a world map. But again, nothing came of it. From what little information the records did provide, he was able to acquire her parents' address in the States and a telephone number.

After several failed attempts to dial out of the country, as he only had what little instructions the front pages of the phone book provided, he was at last able to get the hand receiver to make a ringing noise.

He held the top cusp of the hand receiver to his ear and waited for a response.

"Hello?" came a gentle woman's voice.

Severus moved the top cusp of the hand receiver from his ear to his mouth and said, "This is Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I wish to speak with Claira Madison Bell, if you please."

"You what?" the woman said. "You'll have to speak louder, dear. I can barely hear you."

Severus quickly moved the top cusp back to his ear, and then to his mouth. "I beg your pardon?"

He then moved it again to his ear.

"Hello?" she repeated. "Are you there?"

Severus gritted his teeth and moved the receiver back to his mouth, and raised his voice. "This is Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I wish to speak with Claira Madison Bell."

This time he held it to his ear in time to hear her reply.

"I'm afraid I can't hear you," she said loudly. "Sounds like a bad line. You might try calling again."

Forgetting to lower the top cusp to his mouth, he growled into the bottom of the receiver out of frustration.

He heard her gasp, and then she said in a stiff tone, "What do you mean ringing up and breathing into the phone all funny like? Having a laugh, are you? I suppose you'll be wanting to talk dirty to me next, is it?"

Severus sneered into the receiver and shook his head. "No. No. I want Claira."

"Claira?" she shouted. "What are you on about? I'll not have some pervert ringing up my daughters! If you phone again I'll have the police trace your line, do you hear me? My word!"

"You do not understand, I – "

He heard a loud clicking noise, and then silence. He dialed the number again, but no one answered. Slamming the hand receiver down upon its hook, he exited the telephone box and walked out into the street. He was getting nowhere. It had been three days since Claira had gone, and he was no closer to finding her then when he had started.

But he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Once he was back at Hogwarts, he sent an owl to Philip Grogger. Severus was certain the man had already used up his supply of the sobering potion he had brewed for him, and so he offered him a four months supply in return for information on one Claira Bell. Philip worked at the Ministry of Magic in the repository of records. There he had access to several magical devices used to keep track of the wizard population, habitation, births, deaths, and marriages. If Claira were anywhere to be found, it would be through his department.

In the meantime, Severus continued searching London; he checked with all the inns, both wizard and muggle. It was impossible for a witch of her inexperience to cloak herself that well, he thought. In the back of his mind he worried that her journey on the train had gone amiss, but he refused to assume the worst until he had found out for certain. She might well be staying with an old friend for all he knew.

It would be almost a week later when he received a reply from Philip. Severus was at his desk, brooding over a map of Europe when the flames in his fireplace began to spit and crackle. He made haste to the fireplace and knelt down in front of it.

A gray-bearded face appeared in the flames. "Severus, good, you're here. I can't talk long, you see. Perry will be back any moment, and if he finds out I've been using the devices without authorization – "

"Get on with it then, Philip," Severus urged. "What did you find out?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes, right. It's the damnedest thing. This girl you're after, this Claira Bell, she doesn't register as being anywhere at the moment."

"How is that possible?" Severus sneered.

"How should I know?" He shook his head. "She does not show on our wizard atlas, and I am unable to detect her person… well, anywhere on the planet to be quite honest."

Severus scowled. "There must be some mistake. Try again, Philip."

"I'm sorry, Severus," he said, his eyes darting about. "I've already stretched my neck out far enough on this one. Either she's got a clever cloaking charm on her, or she…"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Yes?"

He lowered his voice to a whisper, looking nervous. "You didn't hear this from me, but ever since You-Know-Who has returned we've had all sorts of strange disappearances. People vanishing right off our maps! Now don't get me wrong, Severus. I'm not saying your lady friend is in trouble. But it is curious, isn't it? I mean –"

His head spun around quickly, and then back again. "That would be Perry back from lunch." He cleared his throat. "Ahem, we had agreed upon a four months supply of that potion we discussed. You'll be sending it soon then? That's a good chap."

And then his head disappeared.

"Philip?" Severus hissed. "Philip! You drunken old sot."

He had to be wrong, Severus thought, as he prodded the logs with the tip of his wand. There had to be a logical explanation for all this. Claira would not have taken such great lengths to hide from him, or would she have? Oh, but he shall find her, he vowed. Only now, his pocket of tricks had lightened substantially. He had but one lead left and it was, by all common sense, the most likely place Claira would have gone. And of course, it had to be the one place Severus would have liked to visit the least.

Two days later, Severus apparated to London and from there he purchased a portkey to a muggle town named Black Mountain. It was not his first visit to the States, but it was his first portkey to a place called North Carolina. It was dark out, and the street lamps lit his way up a sloping hill. The road was paved and lined with muggle houses that were small enough to fit inside his foyer. In the far distance, he could see the silhouette of mountains and a vast forest of trees blanketed in snow. He took a deep breath. The air was lighter here, and much dryer than that of Scotland. He could not say it was unpleasant.

He walked a little further and spotted a small cottage with a light in the window. He stared at it, and scowled. It was difficult to see the full spectrum of the house, but from what minimal illumination the lamp on the porch let out he could recognize it as the same house he had seen during his occlumency lessons with Claira. How a family of four could ever live within such close quarters of each other was beyond his comprehension.

He took another deep breath, and followed a set of stepping-stones that led to the door. On it hung a wreath and a brass knocker, which he took hold of and lightly wrapped on the door.

After a few moments, the door swung opened and there stood a girl about the age of ten. She had blonde hair and wore wire-frame glasses, which she pushed up the bridge of her nose to get a better look at him. He had seen this little girl many times in Claira's memories, and knew her to be Claira's sister Jenny. She resembled her in the eyes, but nothing else.

Her mouth fell agape as he stepped further into the light. Her eyes moved up and down his shroud of black robes. "I know you! You're a vampire, aren't you?" Her face appeared more fascinated by him then frightened. "I've read all about you. I've seen your picture in books."

Had Severus not been accustomed to being rumored as such by his students, he might have been insulted. "May I come in?"

Her eyes widened then, and she shook her head. "Oh no. The books say to never invite a vampire inside." She proudly held up a silver cross pendant, which hung on a chain from her neck. "You see? We are protected. You cannot enter our house to suck our blood unless you are invited… which you are not."

Severus looked down upon her as he would his own student who had just made a dim-witted statement in his class.

He bent over so that they were at eye level, his voice a symphony of sarcasm. "I'm afraid you have been gravely misinformed. Had I been a vampire, and wanted to 'suck your blood' as you put it, I would have swooped upon you the moment you opened the door. A vampire does not need permission to enter a muggle dwelling, nor to murder an entire family if he is hungry enough. I might have entered through a window or the back door, or perhaps the chimney." He straightened his posture. "Now enough of this foolishness. I am here to see Claira."

She stared at him dumbstruck, then after a few moments shouted at the top of her lungs, "Mum! Dad! There is a strange man at the door. He says he's looking for Claira!"

Severus scowled at her as she retreated into the living room. A short, plump man appeared holding a newspaper and wearing reading glasses, followed by a woman who emerged from the opposite side of the wall wearing an apron and a dishtowel on her shoulder. Severus's eyes softened as he watched her. She was gentle and graceful, and had a certain familiar beauty about her.

"Good evening," Severus began, extending his hand to Claira's father. "Professor Severus Snape, potions Master at Hogwarts."

Severus thought he detected a hint of recognition in her mother's eyes as he spoke his name.

The man gave him a wary handshake. "Clayton. What can I do for you, Professor?"

Severus's eyes swept the interior of the house. "I wish to speak with Claira."

Clayton's eyes narrowed at the mention of his daughter, and they took to surveying him.

Claira's mother pushed past him, a look of worry on her face. "Claira? She is at Hogwarts. Why would you think she was here? Has something happened?"

Severus's mouth thinned. "Your daughter resigned from her post precisely two weeks ago. I have been unable to locate her in Scotland or London, or anywhere in between for that matter. I assumed she would come here."

Her father's eyes were calculating. "And just what would you be wanting with my daughter, Professor? Surely your headmaster wouldn't send you all this way just to speak with her. Wouldn't it have been more conventional to send a letter or give us a bell?"

Severus glanced at Claira's mother, and their eyes met. A silent communication passed between them, in which she seemed to realize it was he who had been on the other end of the telephone call a week before. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment for having called him a pervert.

Severus folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat. "My business with your daughter is my own."

"Now you wait just a minute!" he growled, tugging at the waistband of his trousers. "As Claira's father it is perfectly my business, especially when an odd bloke shows up on my doorstep wearing a bloody costume fit for Death." His lip curled. "Not to mention you're nearly twice her age to boot. How do I know it wasn't you who chased her off, eh?"

Severus's body stiffened, and his hand instinctively slipped inside his robe to grip his wand. He would let no man, not even Claira's father, tell him he was not good enough for her. "I don't expect a muggle such as yourself to understand the intricacies of wizard attire, nor the many customs of our world. What I can tell you is that Claira is a grown woman and quite capable of making her own decisions, particularly in choosing a worthy lover."

"Lover, eh?" His face reddened to the deep shade of a raspberry, and his eyes swept over Severus's robes once again. "Claira has never mentioned you. Whatever involvement you think you might have with my daughter, I can assure you my little girl would have told me about it. You've come barking up the wrong tree, I'm afraid –"

Claira's mother placed her hands on her husband's chest, her voice pleading. "Clayton, stop it. Don't you understand what has happened here? Claira is missing!"

Clayton looked into his wife's eyes, and his chest seemed to deflate beneath her tender hands. "Missing? It can't be…"

Severus's heart felt as though it were being squeezed. To hear Claira's mother confirm what he had refused to acknowledge after his conversation with Philip, had awoken a feeling of such desperation and helplessness inside him that he could hardly move.

"We must telephone the police! That's it," Clayton stuttered, looking almost as powerless as Severus felt. "The police will find her alright. Come inside, Lynda. I'm sure she's just visiting a friend."

Severus collected his thoughts, and pushed past them to stop the door from closing. "The muggle authorities are too limited. It would do better to contact the Ministry of Magic and file an inquiry with the Department of Missing Persons. They have a much wider means of locating –"

"I am quite able to find my own daughter, thank you." Clayton snapped the door shut before Severus could get in another word.

Severus glared at the door, his insides boiling. Only out of respect for Claira did he turn on his heel and walk back to the road.

But as he reached for the portkey in his pocket to return to London, he spotted the silhouette of a woman slip out the side door of the house and hurry down the lawn towards him. "Severus! Please wait."

Severus stared down at Claira's mother, his fingers moving away from the portkey.

"You'll have to forgive Clayton," she whispered, pulling her afghan tighter about her shoulders. "He's a good man and he means well. But he's a bit over protective, I'm afraid. You see, we almost lost Claira during birth and well…"

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath.

"I was not aware," Severus said softly.

When she opened them, she gave him a warm smile. "Claira has told me all about you, of course. She is very fond of you." Her eyes praised him. "I wish we could have met under different circumstances, perhaps over dinner or a cup of tea – "

Severus folded his arms across his chest. "What is it you wish of me, Lynda?"

She reached out and touched his hand. "Please, Severus. Send word if you find her. I will telephone friends and family, and contact the Ministry as you suggested. But I have a feeling it is you who will reach her first. I shall be worried sick until I hear from you."

Severus nodded his head and took a step back. "Claira is nowhere that cannot be found. Once I find her you shall be the first to know. Good evening."

And then, tucking his hands into the folds of his pockets, he vanished into the night.

------

It was midnight, on the third week of Claira's disappearance. The wax candle weaned away from its wick, the flame flickering desperately in warning as it reached the end of its life. Severus leaned on his elbows from behind his desk, where he sat leering at the blank scroll in front of him. He had but one option left – one last attempt to reach Claira before he fell into despair.

His hair slid from his shoulders, and draped his weary face as he bent forward and touched the tip of his quill to the parchment.

The words flowed from the cavity of his chest to the tips of his fingers, and spilled through the ink onto the stretch of parchment. He did not pause to blink or think about what he was writing. And he did not stop until the final word had been expelled onto the page.

Severus's hands shook as he melted the wax onto the roll of parchment and sealed it with his crest. He did not dare to read what he had written, for it was his most intimate confession. In his hand he held his vulnerability, his one true weakness. The scroll almost frightened him to look at, but he knew it was his only chance of getting Claira back and that it must be sent. And he had better do it before he had the chance to change his mind.

He rose from his chair and pulled on his cloak. Outside the entrance doors of the castle, he shot a blue spark into the sky, and waited. Moments later, a dark form came swooping down, its large wings flapping loud and powerful against the cold night wind. Severus held out his arm for the falcon to perch upon.

"Tonight I must ask you for a favor, old friend." He stroked its beak, and then tied the scroll onto his leg. "This letter shall be your most important delivery yet, and perhaps your last."

The falcon squawked, and batted its wings in preparations for flight.

"Find Claira, and do not return until you have received her response," Severus murmured, his lips brushing the feathers on Falcor's head. "Make haste, my friend. For if you do return I shall consider your debt repaid, and I will set you free. Go now."

The bird let out a great screech, and leapt from Severus arm. It soared high above the highest tower of the castle, as if searching for the right direction to travel, and then swooped back down to bid Severus a farewell. The tips of his wings brushed Severus's shoulder, and then the falcon disappeared into the darkness.

He would travel for three days with little rest, the magic in his breast pulling him north towards the mountains. His journey was wrought with peril, but birds do not tell tales and although Falcor's adventure was worthy of its own legend, no one would ever know how he had battled a great Thunderbird whose nest he had unwittingly flown over, or of how he had lost the scroll during the fight and had to retrieve it from the den of a Mountain Troll. Falcor was brave and strong, and he reached his destination with little more than a few ruffled feathers to prove his loyalty.

He circled a dark, jagged mountain, charmed to conceal its true identity: a fortified chamber which encamped a small army of Deatheaters, and the Dark Lord. Alighting on its west side, Falcor began to claw and peck at a mound of rubble. He worked until sunset, and as the light faded beyond the horizon he broke through the earth and fell to the bottom of a cold, dank cave, where he landed on a shivering body.

The body twitched, and then a thin hand reached out of the darkness. Falcor flapped his wings and snapped at the dirty fingers.

"Falcor?" a woman's voice rasped, horse and deprived of hydration.

The falcon cocked his head, and then dropped the scroll at the woman's feet.

Scrambling to the beam of moonlight let in by the hole Falcor had dug, Claira broke open the seal and read Severus's sharp, slanted handwriting.

_Claira,_

_I must ask you again, for all the wrong I have done you, to forgive me. I realize our time together has been filled with an over abundance of tears and apologies, and for this I also beg your forgiveness. This letter was not meant for excuses, nor shall I make you absurd promises I will most likely break. Instead I shall only tell you what I know to be the truth: I do not understand love. But if love is the feeling of warmth your smile brings to me, the insatiable desire I feel in the simplest of your touches, if it is the overwhelming sense of loneliness and heartache I now feel at your absence… than love is what I feel for you._

_I will understand if my confession has come to you too late to make a difference. But I would regret if I had never made it or asked you to come back to me. Tell me where you are Claira and I will come to you, as I had attempted the night you left on the train. It means little now, but if you had told me you planned to leave I would have stopped you and confessed my love to you then. I see now that I was blinded by greed and ambition, and it has cost me your love. I am not the man I once was. And I shall never be the same man again thanks to you._

_I accept that I may have lost you to a better man in future. Even if your answer is no, it would appease me to know you are safe and well. That is all that matters to me now. Please send word. I shall await your response for however long it takes, faithfully and devotedly._

_Yours Always,_

_Severus_

Teardrops trickled onto the scroll. Claira attempted to wipe them away so that she may read his words again, but the black soil on her fingers turned to mud at the touch and smeared across the parchment.

"Severus," she whispered, staring up at the sliver of moon she could see through the crevice.

Just then she heard footsteps outside the wooden, makeshift door that trapped her inside the small grotto. She had given up trying to escape when she had been shocked unconscious by the door's dark enchantments. And just minutes before Falcor's arrival, Claira had prepared for death when she refused the Dark Lord for the final time that night. But hope had come in her darkest hour of need. She now knew Severus loved her, and that he had tried to stop her from leaving Hogwarts. Her heart felt alive for the first time in weeks, and she knew she had to survive… to see him again.

She thought of what Severus might do in her situation, and how he might have fooled the Dark Lord for all those years when he had turned spy for the order. She thought of his courage, and gathered the strength to stand.

"Falcor," she whispered, "You must go now. Hurry, before they see you."

He peered at her through yellow eyes, but he did not move. She could hear the men lifting the spells on the door and she tried to take him into her arms, but he pecked at her hands. "Falcor, please!"

He took flight then, circling the cave, his eyes on the scroll in her hand. The falcon seemed to sense the danger at the door, but he did not attempt to escape. It was as if he had a greater purpose.

Claira stared up at him, her eyes wet with tears. "Severus told you to wait for my response, didn't he?"

The falcon screeched.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

And Falcor fell to the ground, his wings spread and his body stiff as stone.

"What have we here?" came a cold, hissing voice.

Claira could not bear to look at the face of Lord Voldemort for more than a second or two without cringing. She stared at the floor instead, at the boots of three minions he had brought with him.

"What have we here?" he repeated, summoning the scroll from her hand. "_Lumos_."

His eyes devoured the words that were only meant for her to read, and it angered Claira to watch this man, this monstrosity, steal its intimacy.

"So, Severus has a heart after all, is it?" His black, slit eyes were on her, his hand lifting to silence the murmur of laughter behind him. "Tell me, girl. What do you make of this?"

There was silence, and then…

"Lies." Claira was no longer cowering, and her eyes were now set on the Dark Lord, on his ugly, wry smile. "Severus does not love me. He only wants me back in his bed. I hate him for what he has taken from me."

"Is that so? We shall see," he hissed, gliding across the cave to her. "We shall _see_."

He grabbed her jaw and jerked her head up so that she was forced to look into his eyes, his long fingernails scratching, digging into her flesh. And then he was inside her head, searching through her memories. She could not stop him. But as he reached her memories of Severus, Claira applied the skills Severus had taught her during their occlumency lessons, and she was able to steer the Dark Lord to the memories she wanted him to see. So she showed him only the worst of Severus; she revealed how he had wormed his way into her heart, how he had taken her virginity and then returned again and again, only to leave after he had finished. She showed him only the arguments, the tears, and the heartache.

"Enough," Voldemort grinned. His fingers slipped away from her face in an almost tender caress. "It appears the both of us have been betrayed by the same treacherous rat who calls himself Severus Snape, and thus we both have a cause for revenge. I find this quite interesting."

He rubbed his chin in thought, and then suddenly he spun around and pointed his wand between her eyes, his expression savage. "I can see to it Severus gets every bit of what he deserves. All you have to do is pledge your allegiance. Join me, Claira. Join me," he hissed, pressing his wand to her skin, "or die."

The men behind him began to mutter to each other, passing queer glances.

Claira closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and said, "Yes."

When she opened them Voldemort was grinning once again, his wand held at his side. "You have made a wise decision. Kneel before me and hold out your arm – No, your other arm."

One of the men behind him grunted in disapproval.

"Silence," he warned, taking hold of her wrist.

Claira winced at the pain of receiving the Dark Mark. It was a horrible, ugly thing, and she nearly vomited at the sight of it. It was a lucky moment the Dark Lord had turned away from her just then.

He snapped his fingers. "Dolohov, escort Miss Bell to the washroom. Mulciber, ready Rookwood's chamber with the girl's clothing and necessities. You see, Claira. The Dark Lord rewards his obedient servants."

"Master!" cried the man who had made the grunt. "Where am I to sleep? I do not understand what need you have for this filthy mudblood. She is not worthy to wear the mark of the Dark Lord."

"_Crucio!"_

And Rookwood was curled up on the floor, screaming and twitching. Claira covered her ears.

"You fool!" Voldemort spat, releasing him from the curse. "You dare to question me? Do you think you know better? No matter. I shall show you."

He slashed his wand and a deep gash formed at Rookwood's throat. The man grabbed his neck gagging, blood oozing out between his fingers.

"Claira, tend to his wound." Voldemort ordered, his expression one of amusement.

Claira's hands began to glow before she even touched them to Rookwood's throat. She whispered the incantation and closed her eyes, allowing the magic to flow through her body to her fingertips. She hated to heal such scum, but she had to obey if she wished to live. The Caduecueus Aura was her gift, and it was now Voldemort's to control – for the time being, she thought.

Rookwood coughed and gasped, and touched his hands to his neck. The wound had been healed. He looked at Claira in astonishment. Relief.

"Is there anyone else here who wishes to challenge my decisions?" His cold, dark eyes swept the faces in the room. "No one? I thought not."

He took Claira's hand and helped her to stand and then, like night and day, he snatched her hair and jerked her head back, his mouth inches from her throat. "And the Dark Lord punishes those who disobey me. I can be generous or cruel. I am a God. You are fortunate to be in my presence."

And then he threw her at Dolohov, and waved his hand at him to take her away. His attention returned to Rookwood. "This shall be your new sleeping quarters. Your usefulness has worn thin, I'm afraid."

The man crawled to him on his knees, and kissed the hem of his robes. "Forgive me, my Lord. Forgive me."

"There may be some use for you yet," Voldemort drawled, looking bored. "I can think of nothing at the moment." His eyes scanned the filthy cave and settled on Falcor. "Except perhaps the bird. Clean him and bring him to me. Severus will be expecting a response from his beloved. I mustn't disappoint him."

-----

The Great Hall was a medley of laughter and conversation. Severus sat quietly amongst the cheer and sipped his soup, and occasionally dunked a biscuit into his bowl, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He would have rather been in his study continuing his search for Claira, if it were not for Dumbledore urging him to make an appearance at dinner. He had been skipping meals of late, preferring to take them in his chambers where he could be alone to think, and according to the headmaster it did not bode well for student and staff relations.

And so it was here that Falcor found him, exhausted and hungry after a horrendous journey. All eyes turned to watch the large falcon swoop through the rafters and land, with a careful grace, upon the head table.

Severus blinked his eyes at the bird, as if uncertain whether he was imagining him there, and then his spoon slipped from his fingers and fell onto the table with a clatter. He reached eagerly for the scroll, his heart pumping, pounding in his chest. Falcor squawked and flapped his wings, and snapped at Severus's hand.

"Easy now," Severus growled, taken aback by his falcon's vicious behavior. "You are welcome to anything on my plate. And I stand by my word, once you've given me the scroll you are free to leave the castle – Damn you, Falcor. What is the matter?"

Blood tricked down his thumb where Falcor had bitten him.

Concentrating on the falcon's sharp talons, Severus made one swift grab at the scroll and snapped the string that tied it to his leg.

"Severus, wait!" Dumbledore warned him, peering curiously at the bird from a few chairs over.

But it was too late. As soon as Severus took the scroll into his hand, Falcor's feathers burst into flames. Severus shielded his face with his arms. Within seconds the falcon had burnt to ashes, and from the ashes rose a greenish smoke. It hissed and swirled, and curled into the shape of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.

One of the children screamed. And then the entire Hall fell into a frightful hush.

Dumbledore stood amongst the silence, staring.

Severus's eyes dropped from the Dark Mark to the slightly singed scroll in his hands, and his fingers began to tremble as he unraveled it.

His breathing stilled.

_You always did have a taste for Mudblood. Tell me, how many more deaths must happen in your name before you realize you cannot hide from me? The Dark Lord does not forgive so easily. Claira was only the first of many who will suffer in your place while you cower behind your castle walls. But your end is nearer than you think. Pray your death will be more merciful._

Severus felt the life drain out of him. It was not the answer he had imagined.

It was his worst fear realized.

He closed his eyes to the pain - to the cold, bitter truth. Claira was never coming back. She had been taken and murdered because of him, because of his mistakes.

Because he had been too proud to admit he had loved her.

If he had spoken the words to her she might have stayed. He could have kept her safe. But now, she would never know how he had felt… what she had meant to him.

He could scarcely breathe.

"Severus," said a gentle, soothing voice. But it quivered, "Is it Claira?"

The scroll fell away from his hands, and he stood. He pushed past Dumbledore and exited the Great Hall through the staff door.

He walked everywhere, and nowhere. There was not a place to be. Not a thing to be done. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had a purpose. He felt confused. Desperate. In one fatal swoop everything of any importance suddenly was naught. Only pain seemed to have any relevance to his existence.

It was pain that lead him to Claira's chamber. The lock he had blasted had not been fixed, and he was able to enter through the door with ease. It creaked loudly as he stepped into the darkness. Perhaps if he had something that belonged to her, something he could touch or smell, the memory of her face would replenish with all its brilliance and vividness. It had become obscured somehow in the time she had left.

He lit the fireplace with his wand and began to search; first inside her wardrobe, and then beneath her bed, and any other place that might have hid a forgotten treasure. Nothing was found. And it angered him. He wanted something to hold. His need became more urgent, and he began to toss about objects; lamps, sheets, drawers, and things that were furnished by the castle but had not belonged to Claira. Then he began to smash them. Frustration turned to chaos, and within minutes he had turned the room inside out, broken all that could be broken.

Depleted of energy, he sank against the wall and raked his fingers through his hair, and bowed his head in defeat. And there he remained; long after the fire went out.

Sometime during the night he fell asleep, slumped against her upturned mattress. He dreamt of a cold, dark cave. Claira was on the ground, wrenching and crying out. The Dark Lord stood over her, pointing his wand and laughing. Severus was there, watching but unable to help her. She looked up at him, begging, calling his name. His wrists struggled against his restraints, but he could not save her in time.

He woke up screaming out her name.

_To be continued..._

* * *

_Thank you to all who left a review. There were very few this time, and I wonder if anyone else is reading this story? If you are, please leave a comment. I need all the motivation I can get to finish these next couple chapters. Thank you again, and stay tuned..._

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	45. Toy Soldiers

Chapter: 44

**Toy Soldiers **

_Step by step, heart to heart, left right left, and we_

_all fall down… like toy soldiers - Martika_

Severus had not bothered to bathe or put on a change of robes when he entered his potions class the next morning. It was a miracle he had made it there at all, having drowned himself in Firewhiskey the previous night, or the remaining hours thereof. Nor had he bothered with a sobering potion. He preferred the ill discomfort of a hangover, feeling as though he deserved nothing less for his sins.

He flicked his wand at the blackboard and set the assignment, and then sat down behind his desk. His mouth tasted of vomit. He massaged the bridge of his nose, and then rubbed his face, and scratched at the stubble of hair on the lower part of his cheeks and chin. He did not care to shave either. He did not care about anything at the moment.

Cauldrons hissed and bubbled over.

He ignored them.

Raised hands went unacknowledged.

His eyes were set on the back wall of the dungeon, his mind in a faraway place. A place when yesterday had never happened. But his heart would not let him forget. Again and again the pain brought him back to the present, like the stretching of a rubber band. He saw the children's faces staring at him as though he were an oddity. And then he saw Claira's face smiling at him, her arms reaching out for him to hold. But just before he could touch – a cough, or a whisper.

"Silence," he spoke coldly.

But their incessant need to make noise continued, hindering his thoughts, and drummed on his already weakened nerves.

A sneeze.

A gasp.

A small cry.

Anger began to fester inside him.

He warned them once more to be quiet.

"But, Professor! Richard's cauldron has melted – "

The expression on Severus's face rendered the boy speechless, as well as the other students. His head was throbbing. Pain. Anger. They all had reached the boiling point.

A moment of silence, and then…

"Get out," he told them, in an almost inaudible tone.

They stared back at him, mouths agape.

"Sir?"

"GET OUT!" his voice boomed, causing a few of them to jump in their seats.

He stood and thrust his wand at them, and sent all of their cauldrons soaring across the room where they crashed and smashed against the corner wall above the sinks. He waved his wand again and the door flung opened with a loud bang.

"Get out!" he repeated, charging at them, herding them towards the door like a flock of sheep.

When the last one fled out, he slammed it shut and leaned against the door, and squeezed his eyes closed. And then his fist pounded against it over and over until the skin on his knuckles split, and his bones made a crunching sound.

He cupped his hand with other and cried out in agony.

Dumbledore would arrive a short time later to find Severus sitting behind his desk once again, resting upon his elbows with his face buried in his hands; one of them was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage.

"You should not have returned to your post so soon, Severus." His voice was calm, concerned. "I had assumed your classes were canceled. Forgive me, I should have seen to it myself."

Severus made no sound or movement.

Dumbledore folded his hands together, and bowed his head. "I understand what you must be feeling right now. The loss of a loved one is very difficult – "

"Don't," Severus growled, his face lifting out of his hands. "Do not speak to me about Claira."

"You mustn't blame yourself, Severus," he pressed further, "we could not have known she was a target –"

Severus rose from his chair so suddenly and so violently his desk rocked on its legs, spilling several objects onto the floor at Dumbledore's feet.

His chest was heaving, but he did not meet Dumbledore's eyes. "I said do not speak to me about her. Save your speeches."

The headmaster scrutinized him from above his half-moon glasses, frowning. "I think it would be best, for the time being, if you took a few weeks to yourself. I will oversee your classes for you, as well as your House. You do not have to leave the castle if you do not wish to, but I strongly urge you to do so. A change of pace might help you to grieve more fully."

Severus sneered. "I am perfectly capable of teaching – "

Dumbledore's words were stern, serious. "You have become a danger to the students, and to yourself. I cannot allow you to teach under such stress, Severus. Forgive me if I've made it sound as though you had a choice. I am, in fact, ordering you to resign from your post."

His lips thinned. "What am I to do for a month?"

"We all mourn in different ways," Dumbledore said gently. "That you will have to discover for yourself."

He took a careful step closer, and placed his hand upon the desk. "But I am here if you should feel the need to confide in me. My door is open to you, as always."

Severus shook his head, his lip curled. "I would rather move forward. But as I do not appear to have a say in the matter, I shall retire to my quarters."

He spun sharply on his heel and swept towards the door.

"Remember, Severus. You have friends here," Dumbledore urged. "You do not have to carry this burden alone."

And he was gone.

-----

The days passed, turning dark to light, pushing winter into spring. With each setting sun the occupants of the castle saw less and less of Severus. He had stopped his nightly walks. At first he had only given up attending breakfast in the Great Hall, and then it was lunch, until finally he was absent for dinners. By the third week, no one had seen Severus anywhere about the castle or its grounds.

Dumbledore had attempted to reach him through his fireplace, but found that he had not set a fire in almost a week, neither in his study nor his bedchambers. Severus had also placed new wards on all doors leading to his quarters that not even Dumbledore had access through.

The portraits had confirmed to Dumbledore one evening upon inquiry that Severus had not left the castle or his chambers.

It took Albus several minutes to sort out and lift all the enchantments on the doors, but at last he had made his way into Severus's study, and behind the bookcase leading to his bedchambers. Following the lighted tip of his wand, Albus searched each of the rooms without success, until he happened upon the ladder to Severus's attic.

"_Lumos."_

It too was empty.

But just as he turned to leave, his eye caught the slight glow of one of Severus's pensieves. His heart sank. He approached the pensieve in quick strides, and held the tip of his wand to the surface of the swirling silver mist. Peering down the bridge of his nose, he moved through the memories, watching them flash in the center of the basin like a film projector, until he found what he had been looking for.

He leaned forward and entered the memory.

Albus now stood in a large bedroom. An arched window revealed that it was night, and winter season. He walked past a black canopy bed, on which two nude bodies were entangled, and approached a figure who sat in the corner, his eyes transfixed.

"Severus?"

The man started, and then turned his wand on Dumbledore. But then he lowered it, and looked away. His hair was unkempt and his clothes were in disarray. He had grown a full beard. The smell of him told Dumbledore that he had not washed in days. As he stepped closer, his feet hit several empty bottles of liquor.

"Leave me be, Albus," he demanded, his voice gruff.

"You know I cannot do that," Dumbledore replied. "You have us all worried."

Severus snorted, and drew one of his knees up so that he could rest his arm upon it. "No one gives a damn about me. Claira was the only one who ever truly cared, and look where that got her. No, its better this way."

His eyes moved back to the bed.

"You are taking this much harder than Lily's death," he said carefully. "I had hoped you were better able to cope – "

"Lily Evans was an idea. A schoolboy fantasy," his voice trembled. "Claira was real. She loved me. She belonged to me. And I failed her."

Severus reached for a bottle, but found it empty. He groaned and tossed it aside.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment, and then said, "You cannot relive the past, Severus. You are far too intelligent to succumb to such madness." He kicked past the bottles and grabbed his shoulder. "You know Claira would not have wanted you to waste away like this. And I will not allow it."

A strong force of magic pulled them up and out of the pensieve. Severus stumbled onto the floor of his attic, and his bottles rolled and smashed around him. Dumbledore stood over the basins and waved his hands. They vanished.

"What are you doing," Severus slurred, attempting to stand.

Dumbledore spun around, the tip of his wand lit. "I am intervening."

"You have no right," he spat.

"You are hardly in the right mind to protest." Albus smiled tenderly. "You will thank me one day. I am certain of it."

Severus winced at the light, and held his aching head in his hands.

"There is an Order meeting tomorrow night," Dumbledore told him. "I would like you to come."

Severus shook his head. "No. I have had enough."

"Life goes on, Severus. Whether you choose to participate in it or not." His eyes were bright and wise. "We still have a chance to defeat Voldemort. He has not won. But we need your help. No one knows his inner workings better than you. If not for the good of the world, will you do it for Claira?"

Severus lifted his tired, blurry eyes to Dumbledore's.

"Do not let Claira's death be for nothing," Albus whispered. "She wanted so very much to contribute to the Order. But you would not allow it."

Severus bowed his head.

"She had a special gift. With more practice, she might have taken the Caduceus Aura further than any other witch or wizard ever had. And that is, I believe, the reason she became a target. Not because of you, Severus." It was now Dumbledore who lowered his gaze. "Blame me if you like. I was the one who encouraged her to try. I do not know how Voldemort found out, but I suspect there might be a spy among us."

Severus jerked his head up. "A spy? Whom do you suspect?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do have my suspicions, but I will not reveal them to you. Not yet."

Severus scowled, his eyes murderous.

"For obvious reasons."

He took a deep breath, and exhaled. "Fine. I will come."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice warm and placid as he lowered himself down the ladder. He paused to say, "Oh, and Severus, please do try to bathe. You have adopted a most unpleasant odor, I'm afraid."

Severus pulled a face and lowered his nose to his armpit area, and blanched.

"Perhaps."

------

Severus did bathe the next evening, and he made an attempt to groom himself but his heart was only half in it. He settled for a quick combing of his hair, but left his beard intact. For attire, he chose black slacks and the same shirt Claira had wore their first night of lovemaking. He took extra care putting it on, his fingers moving slowly, almost lovingly as he fitted the buttons.

All he had to remember her by were dimmed, fleeting thoughts, Dumbledore having confiscated his collection of memories. The injustice of it sickened him, but deep down in the core of his logic he knew Albus had meant well. And he would return them to him at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later. That is, if he did not find them first.

Severus paused in front of Dumbledore's office to straighten his posture. He steeled his emotions, his expression, and entered through the door.

And just as he had anticipated, everyone turned to stare. He swept past their scrutiny, their gasps at his appearance, the whispers that followed, and poured himself a cup of tea.

Severus had his tea by the fireplace, where he stood alone. He returned each of their gapes, reaching behind their eyes to see what could be seen without giving himself away. His movements were careful, subtle, and so swiftly done that none of them had the slightest idea he had just read their mind. If a spy were amongst them, he would weed them out. But as it were, the traitor was not in the room that night.

Coincidently, neither was Teresa Silverstone.

The meeting began, and as the others sank deep into discussions about recent Muggle attacks and missing persons, Severus retreated into his thoughts. At first he speculated about Teresa, and whether or not she was capable of something that heinous. And then he remembered that night he had followed Claira to Hagrid's hut, and how it had been a perfect opportunity for anyone near enough to watch her perform the Caduceus Aura, and he also remembered how he had heard the distinct sound of apparition afterward.

But then his thoughts were of Claira, and all else was lost.

"Severus?'

Nothing.

"Severus?" Dumbledore repeated, lowering his spectacles to survey him through naked eyes. "What do you think?"

Severus blinked his eyes back to the present, and looked around the room at the many faces now staring at him. He cocked his eyebrow.

Dumbledore folded his hands together in his lap, and said patiently. "We were just discussing possible locations for Voldemort's new covert. Kingsley has been tracking his movements through recent attacks at the Ministry, which reveal that he has been traveling north."

Severus nodded. "It wouldn't be anywhere obvious. The Dark Lord is not so bold, or clever, as to set headquarters in the public eye; naturally it would be the last place anyone would think to look. But no, he would want a remote location on land he could build from. Nothing he does is in small moderation."

"Yes, but where?" one of them asked.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Just give me a moment to fetch my broom and I'll fly you there. How the bloody hell should I know? If you haven't noticed, it's been over a year since I last spied for the Order. Or have you so easily forgotten how I was exposed and very nearly escaped being murdered when the Dark Lord found out? Your ignorance astounds me."

Angry voices shouted at him from all corners of the room. Arguments ensued. Severus grinned and slipped quietly back into his thoughts.

Only when Dumbledore addressed the staff did he return to listen.

"I think we have said all that needs to be said at this time. Teachers, while I have most of you here," Albus began, casting a careful glance at Severus. "Madam Pomfrey's new assistant will arrive in a few days time. Please do all that you can to make her feel welcome."

The others nodded and smiled.

Severus felt as though his insides had been mashed and tossed into a boiling cauldron.

His eyes darkened. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but I find it quite insulting to Claira's memory that you should choose to replace her so soon." His tone deepened. "In fact, I don't recall any of you even mentioning Claira in your discussions this evening. Or was her life so insignificant to you that you have forgotten her completely?"

The room became silent.

Dumbledore was the first to speak. "Severus, before you arrived I requested that her name not be mentioned in front of you. I did not think you were ready, or willing, to speak about her death. I apologize if you took that as anything other than consideration for your feelings." His eyes softened. "But the fact of the matter is, the school needs an extra hand in the infirmary. We all deeply regret the loss of Claira, but life continues relentlessly, if not mercilessly."

No one met Severus' gaze, except one.

"Quit being so selfish, Snape," came a low growl from the corner of Dumbledore's office. Sirius Black watched him through weary, bloodshot eyes. "You are not the only one who loved Claira."

Severus's sanity snapped.

A stream of red sparks shot across the room and blasted Sirius out of his chair.

Sirius scrambled to his feet and shouted, "Stupefy!"

Severus blocked it with ease and blasted him again with a powerful force that slammed him against the wall.

Sirius held the back of his head and raised his wand.

"Enough!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together and both of their wands flew out of their hands.

But it was not over.

Sirius lunged forward, and Severus met him with his fists. They wrestled to the ground. Severus pinned him down and began to punch him repeatedly in the face, his expression twisted and maniacal.

"How dare you mention Claira and love in the same sentence," Severus spat. "She was frightened of you. It was me she loved. Not you! Never you."

People approached, shouting from every direction. Severus swung his arms wildly about, keeping them at a distance. But it was the chance Sirius needed to get out from underneath him.

He caught Severus beneath the jaw and knocked him over.

And then Sirius was on top of Severus, his knuckles colliding with his face. "I watched you! I watched you break her heart again and again. And I did nothing. She left because of you! She was murdered because of you. You killed her!"

The punch he received from Severus almost knocked him unconscious. He rolled over onto the floor, slipping in and out of coherency.

Severus thrust out his hand and summoned his wand with a nonverbal spell. He pointed it at Sirius's chest. His eyes were cold, dangerously still.

"Avada Kedav – "

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and his body suddenly felt drained of energy. His eyelids were heavy, and he swayed back and forth, as though he were about to fall asleep.

A calm voice sounded in his ear. "Killing Sirius will not bring Claira back."

Severus staggered to his feet and gazed at all the faces now staring at him in disgust, some of them in fear. His head was throbbing. His heart was pounding, and yet it felt so empty. Dumbledore was right, he thought. Claira could never be brought back to life. But, he could go to her…

In a moment's thought, he felt a calm serene overtake him. He nearly smiled at the feeling. Stepping over Sirius, he walked to the door and floated through it without looking back.

Severus could not remember how he had arrived in his storeroom, but suddenly he was there. He climbed the ladder to the highest shelf and reached for a small chest. His fingers moved over the lock and it opened for him. He then descended the ladder with a handful of tiny black vials.

His eyes appraised them, stared at them as if he held pure gold in his hands. He closed his eyes and thought of Claira. The poisons whispered to him.

He uncorked the first one and brought it to his lips.

His tongue tasted the rim, but then his hand began to shake uncontrollably.

The vial slipped through his fingers and smashed to pieces on the stone floor.

He uncorked the second, and squeezed his eyes shut. The silence pounded against his ears, making him dizzy. He drew the vial up to his lips.

His hand trembled once again.

It fell to the floor.

Heat rose to his face. His body began to quiver.

His eyes burned.

The third vial didn't even make it to his lips before it slid from his hand and shattered.

He dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. And he strained to keep the tears from coming, but they leaked out through his fingers and spilled down his wrists.

And then, for the first time since he could remember, he wept.

------

Claira woke up suddenly from her sleep. He heart was beating, aching as if she had jumped off a cliff and just managed to survive the fall. She stared through the blackness of her small chamber, and held her hand to her chest.

"_Lumos_," she whispered.

And light consumed the darkness.

For a moment she forgot where she was, how she had gotten there. But then she remembered and all the fear, all the pain rushed back to her like waves washing over a shore.

She shivered.

Her body was sore and tender. She had been overworked and overstressed, the Dark Lord having forced her to perform the Caduceus Aura so many times her bones ached. Her mind was also weakened. She felt exhausted and didn't know how many more times she could endure Voldemort's persistent attacks on her mind. They would come when she least expected it, when she was most vulnerable. But by doing so he had unwittingly improved her occlumency skills.

In the weeks that followed her acceptance of the Dark Mark, she had learnt a great deal about his plans, whether it was by his choice or a happened circumstance. Whenever she was called upon to heal a wounded Deatheater, it would often times be in the presence of the Dark Lord. And it would be at a time when information was passed between servant and master. She kept her head low and her ears open, and learnt that although Harry Potter was a prime target, Dumbledore was the main objective. He was Voldemort's greatest threat.

Many people passed through the mountain, and Claira got an idea of how large a following the Dark Lord had. Deatheaters had infiltrated the Ministry in various key departments. The floo network was being watched, as well as the post. But not all followers were of an army. Only those who stayed at the mountain were ordered to attack. They were not a great many, but a very dangerous few.

During her time there, Claira had also learnt that Teresa Silverstone had been the one who turned her over to the Dark Lord. She did not see much of her, as she only appeared when she had vital information to give. Claira was careful not to let her hatred show, and she did all she could to avoid her suspicious glares.

The Dark Lord did not fully trust her either, but as Claira had not given him a reason not to, and had done all that Voldemort asked of her, he had granted her certain privileges. She was given her things. He had returned her suitcases of clothing and possessions. And she now wore the necklace Severus had given her, which she had not permitted the Dark Lord to see in her memories. She wore it tucked beneath her blouse, and it brought her comfort in the most trying of times.

But at the moment, it was safely tucked away in her nightstand.

Claira lay back down on her pillow and closed her eyes. Severus would always be waiting for her there, looking down upon her with his dark eyes gleaming. He would hold her in his arms and give her hope, and the strength to go on.

Just as she was about to dim the light, Claira heard footsteps outside her door.

And then it opened.

She pulled the blankets up to her chin. "What are you doing here? Has the Dark Lord summoned me?"

The man named Rookwood closed the door behind him, and smiled. "As a matter of fact, he hasn't."

The air in the chamber suddenly went stale.

Claira's body stiffened, as did her tone. "Please leave."

"No," he grinned, loosening the clasps on his robes. "I don't think I will. You see, you have taken my sleeping quarters and my seat at the table. And now I want compensation."

Claira's eyes flew to her wand on the nightstand.

"_Accio _wand," he chanted, just before she could grab it.

Not much seemed to frighten her anymore, but as he moved towards the bed, tucking her wand away in his pocket, the fear set in.

She attempted to escape, but he caught her arm and pushed her back down onto the mattress. His body covered hers, preventing her from moving. She beat him in the chest with her fists, which he quickly captured and switched to one hand, so that his other could rip the front of her nightgown.

His eyes swallowed her exposed breasts.

Claira screamed.

"Go ahead, girly," he laughed. "Do you think there is a man here who would come to your rescue? They'd be lining up to have a turn, more likely. You may wear the Dark Mark, but you are not one of us."

He bent his head down and ran his tongue up her neck and over her cheek.

Claira spat in his eye. "Go to hell!"

She received an opened-handed slap across her face.

It blinded her for a moment, and then her cheek began to burn.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," he growled, thrusting the hard bulge in his trousers between her legs. "Tell me, is this how Severus liked it?"

Claira drew up her knee and hit him as hard as she could in the groin.

He gave a roar of pain and rolled off her.

She scrambled off the bed and ran towards the door. He sprang after her and reached out his hand. But before he could catch her, the door opened.

Claira almost collided with Lord Voldemort.

"_Crucio_," he hissed, pointing his wand over her shoulder.

Rookwood hit the ground screaming.

"I am disappointed in you, Rookwood," he said, in what sounded like a yawn. "Have I not provided you all with enough entertainment that you should feel the need to turn your attentions on one of your own?"

Rookwood bowed his head to the floor. "You have been most generous, my Lord. Forgive me."

"_Crucio_."

"I want you to understand something, Rookwood," he began, once the man had stopped wailing. "No one is to touch Miss Bell. Do I make myself clear?"

Rookwood shook his head, blood seeping from his nose.

"Good. Now go tell the others." He lowered his wand. "I have plans for the girl. As long as she is with us, you will treat her with respect and, dare I say, kindness."

He bowed his head once again and scurried out of the room.

Voldemort turned his eyes to Claira, and she watched them slowly lower to her bare breasts, and back up again. "Yes, I see how Severus may have been… tempted."

She thought she detected a hint of longing in his voice.

His pale hand lifted to her breast and his fingers hovered over her nipple for a moment, but then lowered back down to his side. "Unfortunately, I have no need for such pleasures of the flesh."

Claira drew in her breath and looked away.

"It might comfort you to know, however, that revenge on your ex-lover is at hand." His eyes glistened. "I believe you have earned enough of my confidence to tell you that we will be launching a full invasion of Hogwarts in two weeks. I will expect you to be ready to aid your brethren in battle."

She bowed to him. "As you wish, my Lord."

Claira's heart almost burst with joy. But she waited until Voldemort left the room before she allowed herself to smile. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. In two weeks time, she would see Severus again. Somehow she knew everything would be all right once she was back at the castle. Dumbledore was a powerhouse all on his own, but together with Severus's strength… the Dark Lord did not stand a chance.

_To be continued..._

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_**Note to readers**: Thank you all for checking in. See? All your wonderful comments motivated me to write a whole chapter in only a week's time. Don't ask me how I managed it, must have been magic! Merry Christmas! _

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	46. The Final Battle

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Author's note: One more chapter left, my friends. And then I must say goodbye.

* * *

Chapter: 45 

**The Final Battle**

Severus stared at the empty seats that had, only moments before, been occupied with students, and released a long, heavy sigh. He had just completed his first Potions lesson of the day. Life had not quite returned to normal, and he doubted it ever would, but he had managed to stabilize his existence long enough to carry out daily tasks. His face was no longer bearded, and a morning shower had once again become part of his regime. His nights, on the other hand, were still difficult… so very difficult. Hell would have been a descriptive understatement.

He could not escape his thoughts of Claira, or the minute occurrences that happened about the castle which would spark certain remembrances, but he was now better able to cope with the emotions they wrought. It was a slow process of healing, one that required putting one foot in front of the other, and forcing the body, mind and soul to take the next step forward. He stumbled frequently, often times repeatedly in the same day, but he willed himself to go on. His failed attempt at suicide had brought him to the realization that if the only other option was death, which he found himself incapable of reaching, then he had no other choice but to live.

That did not mean, however, that he had to forget.

Collecting the students' potion samples from his desk, he took them to his laboratory to be tested. His next lesson was not scheduled until after lunch, and now that his nights were dedicated to memories and Firewhiskey, he wanted to get them marked sooner rather than later. He had never been one to procrastinate, besides.

There were an unusual number of students cluttering up the tunnels, and as he passed by a small crowd of them he spotted the Creevey boy with his camera about his neck and a large photo album in his hands. The others were craning their necks to see his yearly collection. Some were pointing and exchanging silver Sickles.

Severus stood over them, and scowled. "Don't you all have classes to attend? Granger? Weasley? Dare I say, Potter? Or perhaps you think you have reached the height of your academic achievement that you no longer feel the need to study?"

Harry Potter glared up at him through his round glasses. For six years the boy had been the bane of his existence; but since the arrival of Claira this past year, he hardly noticed Potter at all. He had grossly been neglecting his obligation to oversee the boy's safety, for the sake of Lily (whose death he had been partly responsible for) and the cursed prophecy Dumbledore had instilled so much faith in.

Well, it could not be helped now. What's done is done, he thought. Besides, he now had plenty of time, as an active member of the Order, to save the boy from his own stupidity.

Severus's eyes swept to Creevey. "Unless you plan to share the profit, I suggest you put that away immediately. If I see it in my dungeons again, I shall consider it property of Slytherin House. Are we clear?"

The boy tucked the album in his bag and nodded, and dashed for the exit.

Turning on his heel, Severus continued down the tunnel.

As he stood in front of his laboratory door, about to enter, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

He spun around, and curled his lip. "Miss Granger, if this is about your recommendation, I believe I have already given you my answer."

"No, Sir," she frowned, hesitating briefly before stuffing a photograph into his hand. "I just thought… you might like to have this."

He pulled a face. "I promise you, I have no desire to see any of your faces again after the end if this term. As such, I have no need for -"

His words failed him as he looked down at the picture.

He saw Claira's bright face smiling up at him. His own image stood holding her in his arms, as they danced together at the Yule Ball. He, of course, wore a scowl in the photograph. But Claira, he thought, looked so incredibly beautiful that night. The gleam in her eyes made his heart skip a beat.

His thumb brushed over her image.

He glanced up and saw the young Gryffindor walking away. "Miss Granger."

She spun around, looking nervous. "Yes, Professor?"

He stared at her for a moment.

His lip twitched. "I will see you in my office before the end of lunch."

"Yes, Sir." She bowed her head, and walked away.

Turning back to the door, he entered and set to work.

When the time came, he took his meal at one of the empty tables. Severus had found that if he kept himself busy, his mind in constant demand, then there was little room left for stray thoughts, which would undoubtedly lead to Claira. The tactic was not quite as efficient as he would have liked it to be, but it did help.

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The lunch hour was nearly over, and just as Severus scribbled his signature at the bottom of a scroll, Hermione Granger entered his office.

She pulled out a chair.

"There is no need to sit," he told her, rolling up the scroll. "This won't take long."

He held the parchment in his hand for a moment, considering it, and then thrust it at her.

"Sir?" she said, taking the scroll.

His eyes had yet to meet hers. He busied himself within his desk drawers, tucking away his inkbottle and loose parchments.

"Professor!" He heard her gasp, as she unrolled the scroll. "This is a recommendation letter! Thank you, I… I don't know what to say!"

"Say nothing." It was then that his gaze met hers. "This is to remain between you and I, and whichever university or employment you choose to pursue, understand?"

She nodded her head, all grins. "Yes, of course."

His eyes narrowed. "If I find out you have told any of your little friends, I shall not hesitate to withdraw my recommendation faster than you can say _unfair_."

The recommendation was not an elaboration, but merely a compliment of the girl's talent. The letter was simply drawn to inform whoever was interested that Miss Hermione Granger was competent enough to brew a potion. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It was the first recommendation he had ever written, and already he was reconsidering it. He had refused her earlier requests, along with countless others from his own House. Only when she had given him the photograph of Claira did he decide to extend a hand of gratitude. A small, nagging voice inside his head told him Claira would have been pleased. That same nagging voice had been a driving force for various other little deeds he did not care to make public.

He stood from his chair and held the door open for her to leave. She paused in front of him on her way out, and then did something which caught him off guard.

She turned and hugged him.

The shock of it stunned him for a few moments. He had not anticipated it, or else he would have maneuvered out of the way.

As it were, she whispered a thank you and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Several tendrils of hair brushed his chin, and then a familiar scent of lavender reached his nostrils. The girl was almost the same height as Claira. Her hair smelt of the same lovely fragrance. His eyes closed, and suddenly he was holding Claira in his arms.

A sigh escaped his lips.

His arms closed around her waist, drawing her closer. Lost feelings of love and desire came rushing back. He dipped his head and pressed his lips against her temple.

She stiffened. "Professor?"

It was not Claira's voice.

His eyes snapped opened then and he released her, stumbling backwards in confusion.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he spat, straightening up to full height. "For inappropriate behavior towards a teacher. If you had any brains left at all you would leave my office immediately - before I change my mind about that recommendation of yours."

Her eyes were as wide as a house elf's. "But, Sir! I didn't – "

"I said, out!" He grabbed her by the arm and forced her out of his office, and then slammed the door behind her.

He leaned against it for support, shutting his eyes to the shame and self-reproach of what he had just done. It was now undeniable…

He had just hit rock bottom.

Somehow he maintained sanity for the remainder of the day. His body yearned for a drink, so much so that his hands took on a slight quaver. At the end of his final lesson, he locked up his classroom and made for the Great Hall. However strong or persuasive his addiction might have become, it would have to wait. Dumbledore would not allow him to miss a second meal, for the old wizard now saw it his personal duty to keep a watchful eye on his comings and goings. As if _he _were in need of a babysitter, Severus sneered to himself, entering the Hall.

He took his place at the head table, casting Dumbledore a swift nod, and proceeded to serve his plate with a modest portion from each of the surrounding dishes. His eyes lifted to the enchanted ceiling, noting how it had taken on the odd appearance of a thunderstorm.

Black clouds collided and thunder clapped, flashing loud streaks of lightning across the Hall. It gave the students, and a couple of the teachers, a startle every now and then.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at Dumbledore, on the verge of inquiring about the ceiling, when a thunderous boom, too noisy for the enchantment to produce, made his head jerk toward the entrance of the Hall.

Hagrid bounded through the doors, his clothes torn and bloody.

His face was wild. "Dumbledore, it's him! He's here. I couldn't hold 'em back. I'm sorry."

Hagrid's body lurched forward, hitting the floor with a horrible thud, as numerous spells hit him from behind.

The children screamed.

Everyone seated at the head table stood.

And then they came, black figures in masks, spilling through the door like an infestation of rats, the Dark Lord leading the charge. The Hall exploded with spells, all aimed at the head table.

It happened so suddenly. They each only had a moment to respond.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together, just before his body went stone rigid, vanishing all students from the Great Hall.

Severus, one of only few who had managed to withdraw his wand before the first onslaught of curses, blocked the attack. But he was hit by the second, and he too stiffened, unable to move any part of his body but his eyes.

"Find them!" Voldemort shouted. "Kill the Muggleborns. Kill any others who refuse to join me."

Just as quick as they had come in, the Deatheaters swept out in search of the children.

The Dark Lord remained, accompanied by two hooded figures. He waved his hands, casting the tables against the sidewalls.

He took a few steps closer. "Well, that was much easier than I had anticipated, I must confess. Dumbledore, I believe you are losing your touch." He grinned. "Of course, you are probably wondering how I was able to enter the castle with little resistance. Allow me to explain."

The figure to his left stepped forward and lowered her hood.

"You see, Miss Silverstone was courteous enough to lift the wards before my arrival." His eyes gleamed with delight. "Yes, she has proved herself quite useful these past months."

Teresa bowed to the head table. Her eyes, however, never lifted from the floor to greet her colleagues.

It came as little surprise to Severus, who had already elected her as the spy and co-conspirator to Claira's abduction and murder. However, Teresa had feigned illness, and had taken leave before either he or Dumbledore could extract the truth. It was Albus's decision not to act on their suspicion until they had enough evidence against her.

Damn him, Severus thought angrily, for his incomprehensible lust to see only the goodness in people. His 'innocent until proven guilty' motto had landed them into a very sticky web indeed.

"Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, turning his attention away from Dumbledore. "You should have come when I called for you. Only a fool would think he could hide from my wrath." His eyes flashed. "I was once very fond of you, but now I think you will quite get what you deserve."

He flicked his wand and Severus was released from his magical bonds.

Severus stumbled backwards over his stool. On the floor, he grabbed his wand, which had fallen from his hand earlier, and brought it with him as he stood.

"Expelliarmus!"

Severus's wand flew from his hand.

"Crucio!"

And he was on the floor once again, wrenching and crying out in pain.

"That was rather rude, Severus," Voldemort smirked, his eyes dancing. "You should be on your knees, kissing my robes, thanking me for every breath I allow you to take. I should have killed you long ago. But never mind that now, you are about to learn the true meaning of vengeance."

Waving his wand, he levitated Severus over the table and let him drop to the floor in the center of the Hall. Severus bit back a grunt as his hip came down hard against the ground. He then scrambled to his feet.

Voldemort motioned to the second cloaked figure with his hand, and she stepped forward. He circled her, his eyes falling over her form almost lovingly, like a master adoring an object of his creation.

And then he spoke close to her ear, but loud enough for everyone present to hear. "Kill him."

The figure moved towards Severus, her walk slow and purposeful.

"Accio!" Severus shouted to his wand, and it answered to his outstretched fingers.

Teresa sprang forward; amazed that Severus was capable of summoning it with wandless magic.

"No!" Voldemort warned. "Do nothing. Win or lose he will still die tonight."

Severus raised his wand, his eyes searching for a face beneath the hood. None of this came as a surprise to him. The Dark Lord rarely dirtied his hands, not when he had a pocketful of witless minions to do his bidding. Nor was the threat of death something unexpected. He had known this moment would come the instant he turned spy for the Order. The ace up his sleeve was that he had prepared for it, begged for it even. He had nothing left to lose; but he was not about to go down without a fight.

He drew his wand back to strike.

It was then that the hood fell away from her face, the cloak from her shoulders, and the woman was revealed to him at last.

"Claira," Severus whispered, disbelieving his eyes.

He shut them and opened them again, and she was still there.

"This can't be," he muttered. "What trick is this?"

He glared at the Dark Lord, hating him even more than he thought possible.

"This is no trick. The woman you see before you is indeed your precious Claira." He smiled cruelly. "But I think you'll find her quite different than you remember. She has a new love now. A new loyalty."

"You lie!" Severus shouted.

"Do I?" he taunted. "Why lie when the truth in this instance would bring me much more satisfaction? I believe I ordered you to kill him."

His words drained Severus of his strength, leaving his body almost too weak to stand. What sort of hell was this? Severus thought. He must be having another nightmare. Claira would never…

She raised her wand.

Their eyes locked.

Those eyes. They were not as he remembered. At least ten years had passed behind them it seemed. The innocence that was once so profound had been lost; but in its place shown a new depth of growth and maturity; a rose in full bloom. He had not thought it possible for her to become any more beautiful. Yet now, as Claira stood before him, she took his breath away.

The tip of her wand flashed, and a stream of red sparks shot out and was hurdled straight at his head. He deflected her attack, but just barely; it nicked his ear and blasted a hole through Dumbledore's pointed hat.

Severus lowered his wand, his expression a twist of anger and sadness. "I won't fight you, Claira."

"Then you will die!" Voldemort answered. "Do it quickly, Claira. I have other matters to attend."

Another blast erupted from her wand. This time he did not move, nor did he try to counter it. His eyes were on her face. If he was to die, Claira's face was the last thing he wanted to see.

The blast clipped the outer edge of his cloak.

His eyes narrowed.

They had dueled in the past, and he knew her to have much better aim then that. What was she waiting for? And then he saw it, a faint blue light beneath the fabric of her breast. She was wearing the necklace he had given her for Christmas! His heart threatened to burst out of his chest. The Kardia Stone was crafted to reflect the deepest desire of the bearer's heart. Claira had once told him he was the only one it had ever glowed for. She still loved him!

His strength returned tenfold. In that moment, he felt as though he could move a mountain with his bare hands.

His eyes met Claira's, and she smiled. She knew he knew. How, he did not know; the many wonders of love were still all too new for him to comprehend. He was careful, however, not to show his emotions outright. Voldemort's gaze was still upon him.

Claira fired another hex. This time he blocked it and sent it back her way, just off to the right. He played the expression as though she had angered him. Another spell was thrown at him, and he stepped aside to avoid it. This went on for another moment or two, until they had come round about in a circle, her back in direct line of where Voldemort stood, looking on with cold, hungry eyes.

This was it.

She must have planned it all along, Severus realized. It was a good plan, a clever plan; but they only had one chance to get it right. The Dark Lord's weakness lay in his arrogance. He did not believe it was possible for anyone to defy him, for he thought himself too powerful, too impressive to be fooled. Claira was a smart girl. She must have picked up on it early, and used it to her advantage. Not that it was something to be proud of, but Severus credited himself for having taught her how to deceive and feed upon another's vulnerabilities.

His gaze touched hers once again, and she gave him the slightest of nods. Taking a deep breath, he drew back his arm and chanted, "Avada Kedavra!"

Claira dropped to the floor at the same moment, and the curse passed safely over her towards its intended target.

Whether he had predicted its coming or had snakelike reflexes, Severus would never know, but Voldemort had in the same instant grabbed Teresa and thrust her body in front of his. She slumped to the ground, lifeless at his feet.

Severus felt fear creep up his spine like the tendrils of Devil's Snare. The plan had failed. And Voldemort now looked upon Claira with such malice and hatred, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Severus lunged forward as the Dark Lord raised his wand, and he grabbed Claira, pushing her down to the floor. Her wand slid across the Hall as they fell. The curse missed them by inches, and whizzed over the white hairs on the top of Dumbledore's head.

Claira now lay beneath him. Her arms wrapped about his shoulder, and his around her body. They hugged each other tightly.

"Stay down," he whispered in her ear.

She clutched at his robes as he pulled away from her. "Severus, don't! He'll kill you."

"I must. There is no one else left now to stand between the Dark Lord and victory." It pained him to see the tears in her eyes. "Don't cry, my love. I won't let him have you again. Not while I am still able to stop him. We shall be together, I promise. So help me, I will find a way."

He kissed her then, and time stood still for them.

"Let's do get on with it," Voldemort snarled, breaking the silence. "I still have a castle to overthrow; a headmaster to kill; and an entire country to rule. I can't be bothered with you much longer."

Severus rose to his full height, and stood over Claira. The warmth of her body stayed with him, melting away the cold stare of the Dark Lord. His limbs were shaking; not out of fear, but from love and the power he absorbed from her touch.

"You are a fool!" Voldemort hissed, giving him a slight bow as customary for a wizard duel. "You cannot beat me."

"We shall see." Severus met his sneer with an onslaught of attacks that drove him backwards and away from where Claira lay.

Spells clashed and exploded as Voldemort resisted. Severus blocked one, and then two, and slashed him down the side of his face with a sharp cleaver hex. The Dark Lord stumbled.

He touched his hand to his cheek, and stared at the blood on his fingers in wonder. His face twisted in anger. The muscles in Severus's arm flexed and stretched as he countered the flood of attacks that followed. The force of the last brought him down on one knee.

Exhausted, and with a strangled look of worry and uncertainty, Voldemort cast his eyes on Claira. She was crawling towards her wand. His arm drew back. Severus cried out and threw his body in front of the curse's path.

But it was not the killing curse.

He had instead lured him into a trap with, "_Expelliarmus_!"

Severus was thrown backwards into Claira, and his wand flew out of his hand. He opened his mouth to summon his wand, but the Dark Lord stood over them. "Speak one word and I'll kill her first."

Severus moved in front of her and shielded her body with his. Voldemort raised his wand. Severus closed his eyes in defeat. The feel of Claira's hand on his chest brought him comfort; her warm breath on his neck brought him peace. His hand slid over hers on the floor, and he squeezed it.

"I love you," she sobbed in his ear.

"And I – "

He saw a green light flash through his closed eyelids.

There was darkness.

And then… nothing.

Nothing seemed to have changed. Is this death, he wondered? His eyes blinked opened, and he saw the Dark Lord still standing above him, a look of utter bewilderment upon his deformed face. Severus no longer felt Claira's hand on his chest, nor the one he held. He looked down, and found himself engulfed in blue light. It was the Caduceus Aura fully realized.

His eyes lifted and followed Voldemort's gaze. Claira too was glowing. Her body had risen from the ground. Her hair was wild and whipping about her face. The power of the spell poured from her lips as she chanted the words. She spread her arms out wide, and soon everyone in the Great Hall was glowing bright, all except for the Dark Lord.

Severus stared up at her, his heart beating madly.

The holds on the others were broken.

All eyes were on Claira, as the last of her strength faded and she slumped to the floor.

"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore shouted.

Voldemort's wand left his hand and was captured by Dumbledore's waiting fingers. Just then, the double doors swung opened and in stormed a small army of students, some wounded and crippled but alive; alive, and lead by none other than Harry Potter.

Severus snorted, but not wholly out of disgust. He should have known Potter could not have kept his nose out of trouble. But, for this one instance, Severus was glad of it. The string of disabled and unconscious Deatheaters floating haplessly behind him was a comfort to behold.

The Dark Lord was soon surrounded at all sides, the group closing in to seal him within a tight circle.

Severus rushed to Claira; and upon feeling her heart alive and beating, he kissed her lips and whispered, "Thank you."

He then retrieved his wand and joined the resistance.

The Dark Lord looked small, like a caged bird ruffling his feathers to intimidate but with no real power to harm anyone. Severus raised his wand to silence him once and for all.

Dumbledore laid his hand down gently upon his, and lowered it. "The prophecy, Severus. _Neither can live while the other survives. _This is now for Harry to finish. You have done all that you can. And we are all very grateful to you."

Harry stepped forward with his wand held high.

Voldemort laughed. "You are but a mere boy. A mediocre wizard at best. Do you really think you can defeat me? Dumbledore is a fool."

The boy's hand began to glow green, illuminating his expression of anger and determination. "You killed my parents, and so many other innocent people. You tried to kill my friends tonight, but you failed. I won't let you harm anyone else. Not anymore. It ends now."

The scar on his forehead flashed.

Voldemort now looked frightened. "Join me now, Harry. Join me and I will spare the others. Together we can rid the earth of its uncleanliness. You would have power unimagined – "

A few spoken words and a blaze of green light, and it was over.

"Avada Kedavra," Severus chanted, striking Voldemort's already dead body; it flopped, but was unmistakably lifeless. His eyes met Dumbledore's, and the corner of his mouth upturned. "It wouldn't hurt to add a little extra insurance."

The crowd dispersed and tended to the wounded. Severus returned to Claira's side and pulled her into his arms. He brushed her hair aside and stroked her cheek, and whispered soft words in her ear.

Madam Pomfrey knelt down beside him and checked her pulse, and performed many spells to revive her. All of them failed. "She's unconscious, Severus. I can't bring her out of it right now."

"How long?" he asked.

"A few days, I expect. That was a strong bit of magic she worked." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I saw what you did tonight. I'm sorry I doubted you, Severus. You must love Claira very deeply to be willing to sacrifice your life for hers. I shall never say another word against you."

"Severus looked down at Claira's face. "I do indeed."

The doors opened again, this time to aurors and Ministry personnel.

"Good Merlin!" Cornelius Fudge cried. "Is that him then? My stars! He is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, and he shall not rise again," Albus replied, lifting his hand to stop the man from further questioning. "I will tell you all that happened in my office later tonight, but now is not the time. As you can see we have many injured."

"Of course, of course. I'll send for more healers." He paused in mid-step when his eyes fell upon Severus cradling Claira in his arms.

He approached them in swift strides. "Severus, the reporters are on their way. They should be here any moment now." His eyes darted about. "It might be wise not to be seen in such a compromising position with that girl, if you know what I mean."

"That _girl_, as you say, saved many lives tonight. Including my own," Severus sneered. "So no, I do not _know_ what you mean."

Severus stood and lifted her into his arms.

The Minister of Magic's face reddened.

His voice lowered to a near whisper. "Are you telling me you wish to be seen embracing a Muggleborn on the front cover of the Daily Prophet? I must advise against it. You are, after all, still on a six month probationary period."

Severus turned to him then, and looked him in the eyes. "And I must advise you, Cornelius, to mind your own bloody business. The Dark Lord has been defeated. But look around you! The Deatheaters attacked the students, and some of them may yet die from their wounds. And all you can think about is the Ministry's bloody reputation? Take your _probationary period_ and shove it up your arse. I don't want the job."

He pushed past him and carried Claira to the infirmary, and placed her down gently upon one of the beds.

"I must tend to the children," he told her softly, not caring whether she could hear him or not. "They need me now. But I shall be back as soon as I can."

He stared at her for a moment, scarcely believing she was real, and then he kissed her lips and swept out the door in a flurry of robes.

**To be continued…**

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**Once again, thank you to all who took the time to leave feedback. You guys are my inspiration!**

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	47. The End of the Beginning, Part One

Chapter: 46 (Part One)

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Author's note: I didn't want to seperate this chapter into two parts, but I am so busy right now it would be a while before I could finish it. So I decided to submit the first half. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

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**The End of the Beginning**

Claira stirred in her cot, and then she blinked her eyes open to a dimly lit room. It took her a moment to recognize her surroundings; she was in the infirmary, and the sun was setting from what she could see through one of the windows. How did she get here, she wondered. The last thing Claira remembered was the Dark Lord standing over her and Severus, and then there was a flash of green light.

"Severus!" she cried.

She sat up and looked around wildly, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You just missed him, dear," said a familiar voice.

Claira turned to Madam Pomfrey, who now stood beside her with a lit wand. "You mean he's alive? How? Where is he now? I want to see him."

"Calm down, Claira," she said, waving her wand over Claira's head and chest to check for abnormalities. "He has hardly left your side since it happened. He comes and goes throughout the day, but he has spent every night watching over you as if you'll disappear at any moment. I've sent him away to eat and rest, but I doubt he'll listen. He'll soon be back. I'm sure of it."

Claira sighed with relief. "How are the others? The children? Poppy, please tell me what happened."

"You mastered the Caduceus Aura, and not a moment too soon," she replied, moving the tip of her wand back and forth for Claira's eyes to follow. "You performed the spell on Severus just before the curse hit, and then you used it to lift the curses on the rest of the teachers. I've never seen it done so beautifully. I'm not surprised you don't remember; it was a powerful bit of magic. Well done, Claira."

Claira's eyes swept the infirmary once again. "What about the children?"

"Some of them were apparated to St. Mungo's, but they are all doing well," she frowned. "We lost two first year students, Frederick Jones and Annie Holloway; and a fifth year student, Thomas Rogers. He was killed trying to save the other two."

Claira buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey wrapped her arm around her shoulder, and squeezed. "Believe me, Claira, it could have been much worse. If it hadn't been for you and Severus, the whole school would have been in ruin." She cradled her for a moment, and then said, "Do you want to talk about what happened the night you disappeared? We are all eager to hear your story. We thought you were dead!"

Claira wiped the tears from her eyes. "Not just yet, Poppy. I can't bring myself to think about it right now. It was horrible. I hope you understand."

"Of course," she said gently. "Perhaps when you are ready. I'll tell you one thing, though. Severus absolutely fell to pieces. Good Merlin! The man was a mess. He searched for you for weeks, and then when he got that dreadful letter…" She shook her head. "It nearly killed him."

"I know about the letter," Claira nodded. "I couldn't stop Voldemort from sending it, but I did try… A mess you say?"

Poppy tucked her wand away.

Turning back to Claira, she lifted her eyebrow. "Have you ever seen Severus with a beard?"

Claira stared up at her.

Her lips formed the slightest grin. "No, I haven't."

"Lucky for you then." Poppy pulled a face. "It was hideous. But never mind that now. Why don't you get washed up and have a bite to eat? Severus will be around soon enough. You'll need your strength."

Claira nodded her head and swung her legs over the side of the cot. Her limbs felt terribly weak. She wobbled a few steps, but gained control by the time she reached the door. And then she paused to spin around. "I only just realized - I haven't any other clothes to wear!"

She looked down at her hospital gown and grimaced.

Poppy was already busy turning up the empty bed. "Some of the girls have given you a few blouses and things. I've purchased some new undergarments for you, but I didn't know your style of dress well enough to venture any further. You'll find everything you need in your old room."

"Thank you, Poppy," Claira sighed in relief. "It's so good to be back."

After she had bathed and sifted through her donations, Claira dressed and sat down to a hot bowl of soup. Within the first few sips she felt her strength return; but she was eager to see Severus, and she downed the rest as quickly as possible. She hoped he would not be too difficult to find. Although she felt better, Claira did not want to risk too many staircases.

As she approached the entrance hall, she heard a loud assembly of voices. She halted in front of the doors leading into the Great Hall, and cautiously peeked inside. Gryffindor banners swayed high and proud amongst the walls and ceiling, students were clapping and cheering, others toasting each other in glee over their House's victory. It was then that Claira realized it must be the end of the year feast. She smiled and tiptoed away from the door. Severus was not amongst them.

The chill of the dungeons, the sights and sounds, heightened her senses. Her body tingled at the memory of the castle. Once again she found herself stealing away to its very depths, to the arms of the man who commanded them. Her hand stretched out over the silver handle of his study door. To her surprised it glowed beneath her fingers; Severus had not lifted the spell that granted her entry. Claira closed her eyes and waited for the wave of joy that overtook her to pass.

And then she entered.

Severus stood with his back to her, fingering a small golden object in front of the fireplace. He was free of his teaching robes, and wore only his black trousers and white collared dress shirt. He did not seem to notice her until she clicked the door closed. Only then did he turn on his heel and lift his dark gaze to her face.

Their eyes met and they both stood motionless, neither able to breath.

Severus was the first to speak, but only then a whisper, and more to himself. "You are awake."

Claira nodded her head, the sound if his rich, deep voice springing fresh tears to her eyes. He was alive and standing, and breathing and thinking. The sight of him was more than she could bear; she felt as though she might crumble to the ground at any moment.

They moved towards each other, each step quickening until they were within inches of one another. And then they stopped. He slipped the thing he had into his pocket and reached out, but he was uncertain where to touch her or whether he even should. His hands hovered somewhere near the curve of her neck and chin. His eyes searched her face for approval.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. His thumbs finally dared to brush them away, and then his hands delicately cupped her face. Claira closed her eyes at the feeling of his fingers on her skin. She trembled inside.

He pulled her into his arms. She heard him sigh as he squeezed her tightly against his chest. She buried her face in his shirt, her hands grasping and twisting at the fabric.

He was shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Claira." His lips pressed against her temple. "Could you ever forgive me?"

Unable to find the words, Claira answered him by wrapping her arms about his neck and hugging him closer, until every possible part of her body was touching his. She sobbed into his shoulder.

"Hush now," he whispered, rocking her slowly. "I can only imagine what you must have gone through. But it's over now. You've come back to me." He lowered his mouth to her ear, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. "I would have gone to you if I had only known where you were."

"No," she choked, squeezing his shoulders. "They would have killed you if you had come. I'm glad you didn't find me."

"I would have deserved nothing less for how I treated you." He hugged her against him even tighter. "God, I was such a fool. The things I said to you – "

"Don't, Severus," she pleaded. "You were right before. It's over now. Let's not think about it."

"If only it were that simple," he murmured. "The pain of losing you is something I shall never forget. It was bloody torture." He brought his hands to her face and lifted her eyes to his. "I will not make the same mistakes twice. This I can promise you."

All feeling left her toes.

Her hands moved to his chest. "But what about the marriage decree? Your inheritance? The Ministry? I can't ask you to sacrifice everything for me."

"Haven't you been listening, you silly girl?" he teased, his gaze unwavering. "You are all that matters to me now. You need not ask anything of me. I have already resigned my position with the Ministry of Magic. And I will deal with my mother when the time comes. As for the inheritance… I have enough gold in my vault to cover my expenses. I may have to work the full term for retirement benefits, but after that we should live quite comfortably, I believe."

Claira's heart skipped a beat. "We?"

"We," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers.

A tsunami of love and desire overtook them. Once again they were lost in each other's arms, hugging, caressing, feeling emotions that had been tucked away deep inside. The passion intensified with each kiss, as it always had. Heat rose between their bodies, each and every touch stimulating memories of their past as lovers, until they were on fire and struggling to the floor, tugging at clothing.

Severus laid her down on the soft rug in front of his fireplace and removed her blouse; her bra followed as he kissed her mouth, his hands moving eagerly over her warm skin. Something between a groan and sigh escaped his throat when he took her breast into his palm. Freeing her lips he stared into her eyes; she noticed a strange stir behind his dark pupils, an apprehension. Slowly his gaze lowered to her chest and abdomen.

He released the breath he had been holding.

"Thank Merlin," he whispered, smoothing his hands over her pale body. But his eyes hesitated on the faded mark on her forearm, the one similar to his.

"What is it?" she asked, threading her fingers through the hairs on his naked torso, tracing his scars. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." He paused, and then frowned. "I was afraid you might have been… I had hoped that they hadn't hurt you or… touched you. Please tell me they didn't…" His voice trailed off.

"No, I wasn't tortured. Voldemort wanted me for healing. As for the other..." Her eyes closed at the memory of Rookwood, and she swallowed hard. "Almost. But _he_ wouldn't allow it. I think he saw it as a way to earn my trust and loyalty. Would… would it have mattered to you if I had been?"

Severus's expression turned fierce, but not out of anger. "No, of course not. At least, not in the way you might think. I blame myself for your capture. You wouldn't have been taken if it hadn't been for my arrogance and stupidity –"

She pulled his head down and silenced him with a kiss.

"I don't blame you for what happened, and neither should you," she insisted. "I have already forgiven you for all that happened before then. Severus, please. Say no more of it. I just want you to hold me now. Kiss me… Make love to me."

"If that is what you wish," he murmured against her lips.

And he kissed her tenderly, lovingly. His tongue dove deeply into her mouth, exploring, reminiscing.

His hands moved once again over her body, remembering every curve and sensitive dip that had made her gasp and rise beneath his touch. Unfastening the clasp in the back, his fingers slid up her thigh and disappeared beneath her skirt. She arched her back, pressing her nude breasts against his chest. When his hand resurfaced, it went for her waistband and tugged down her skirt. He cupped her bottom and drew her hips to his, pulling one of her legs up over his waist. His fingers then slid up the back of her thigh to the lip of her panties, and then beneath.

His mouth smothered her moans, while his fingers gently plunged and swirled, his hips slowly thrusting forward so that the bulge in his trousers fitted snugly in between the space of her mound and his palm.

He sighed into her mouth, his breathing loud and unsteady. Claira's hands dropped to his waist to free the buttons on his trousers. Never breaking the kiss, he adjusted his hips and helped her to lower them down.

He kicked off what remained of his trousers and summoned a blanket from one of his settees. His fingers then hooked underneath her panties and pulled them down her thighs, past her knees and ankles, and tossed them aside. Draping the blanket over their nude bodies, he moved over her.

His lips dragged away from her mouth to her neck, licking and nipping his way down her throat to her collarbone, and down further to her swollen breasts. She could feel his erection warm and hard against her inner thigh, the cusp brushing her entrance every now and then as his hips jerked forward. And then his mouth closed around her nipple. She bit her lip and moaned.

He soon worked his way back up to her mouth, and after another long kiss he stared down at her, his eyes ablaze with a familiar hunger.

She parted her legs for him.

His arms quivered under his weight, excitement and impatience getting the better of him. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and then he slowly, carefully positioned himself at her entrance and pushed forward. His arms threatened to fold under again, and he gave into them, using his elbows to support his weight rather than his hands. They were now free to comb through her hair, and touch her face, and dig into the rug when the tip of his shaft reached her hilt. They both gasped at the pleasure of it.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he began to move. She moved her hips with his, writhing beneath him, bucking gently against his thrusts. The sounds of his enjoyment vibrated through her; every little moan, every growl tickled her insides.

"Oh, Claira," he rasped, kissing along her jaw line. "Stay with me tonight."

Her nails dug into his back. "I will."

"No, not only tonight. Always," he whispered in her ear. "Marry me, Claira."

His words paralyzed her.

She stared up at him. She could no longer feel his breath on her face, nor could she breath herself. Her lips parted but nothing came out.

"Well?" his voice trembled, eyes boring into hers. "Say you'll be my wife, or else I'll go mad."

"Yes," she choked, holding back the tears. "Yes! I will."

He smiled.

It was a warm, genuine smile: a smile of relief and gratitude. A smile of pride. And she returned his smile with her own mix of euphoria.

A new energy was put into their lovemaking. Her kiss was not deep enough. His thrusts were not hard enough. It was as if their bodies were yearning to become one piece. One soul. They cried out to each other in delight, and in frustration of not being able to be any closer than they already were; body on body, mouth on mouth, man inside woman.

Their pace slowed as they came to the realization that it was an unreachable goal. All they could do was enjoy each other for the time it lasted; the warm, wet tightness of her - the length and strength of him, moving in and out of her in perfect strokes: the pleasures of sex.

The end came quickly and suddenly, and too soon he rolled off her gasping for air, their heads spinning, bodies aching.

When their heartbeats returned to normal and their bodies cooled, Claira cuddled against him and rested her head upon his chest. He stroked her shoulder for a while, eyes closed in silent bliss.

She closed her eyes.

And then she felt his lips on hers.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing her softly. "Forgive me for not telling you sooner. I think if we are to have a future together, I would like it to begin with the truth."

Claira's heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

She opened her eyes and smiled, loving him more in that moment than she ever had. "I love you too, Severus."

"Is that so?" he purred, pulling her into his arms. "Then I had better give you this."

He opened his hand and revealed to her a beautiful diamond engagement ring, elegant and shimmering in the light of the fire.

"Severus!" Claira gasped.

He took her hand in his and slipped it onto her finger. The gold band magically shrunk to just the right fit. He held her hand for a moment, and then brought it to his lips.

His eyes searched her face. "Do you like it?"

Claira's eyes were busy gaping at the diamond, how it sparkled at the slightest movement.

"Yes! God it's gorgeous," she said, breathless. "It's perfect."

"Good," he replied coolly. He sank back down onto the rug and shut his eyes, the corner of his mouth upturned. "I'll be paying for the bloody thing for the next five years."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Claira chuckled and settled beside him, absorbing the moment. But as she stared at his face, her eyes tracings his dark brow, she wondered if there wasn't a semblance of truth behind his sarcasm.

To be continued...


	48. The End of the Beginning, Part Two

Chapter: 47

Note to readers: I hope you haven't forgotten me by now. Yes, I am still moving towards an end to this story, however slow that may be. There is still one more part to go, part three a.k.a the finale. Who know when that will come, but the way I see it with the HBP movie moved to next summer we have nothing better to do then twittle our thumbs and read ancient AU fanfics like mine.

**The End of the Beginning (Part Two)**

Severus watched Claira as she slept in his arms, tracing the silhouette of her face with his eyes. She groaned and jerked her head. Her eyelids fluttered. It was a troubled sleep, and like many nights before he anticipated her sudden jolt from the pillow.

"Severus! Stop… No!" she cried, thrusting her hands out, trying desperately to grasp the darkness.

He captured her arms and drew her against him. Cradling her head against his chest, he murmured, "Hush now, I'm here."

"Severus?" she whispered, her chest heaving. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly and then moved up to feel his face, as though to check that he was real. Satisfied with her findings, she flung her arms around his neck and wept.

He rocked her slowly, feeling helpless. "I think we need to increase your dosage. Two vials should suffice. I do not like you taking the sleep droughts every night, but these nightmares must stop. One more week and then we will have to search for an alternative remedy."

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you again –"

"There is no need to apologize. I was already awake." His lips brushed her temple. "You are not the only one finding it difficult to sleep."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, forgetting her own distress for the moment. Her eyes roved his dark features. "Are you… nervous? About the wedding?"

He snorted. "Darling, I took on one of the most powerful, maniacal wizards of our time. Do you really think a little thing such as marriage is going to unhinge me? I simply ate too many helpings of Yorkshire Pudding at dinner. That is all."

He grabbed the edge of his covers and drew them up over her shivering body. They were both nude, having devoured the earlier hours of the night making love in his bed. A month had passed since the fall of the Dark Lord, and they had spent every night together, subsequent to Claira regaining consciousness, as a professed couple; unmoved by the stares that followed, or occasional hate mail that preceded the most recent article published in Witch Weekly that ended Severus's sway as Most Eligible Bachelor.

Claira's nightmares had begun only a few days after their engagement. At first, Severus thought he was to blame for having imposed such a heavy decision upon her while she was still in a fragile state of mind. However, after a week or so of listening to the faint cries in her sleep, and of course her sudden outbursts, he realized she was reliving the crucial moments of the battle whence they were only moments away from death. It was a traumatic experience for anyone to have gone through, and even Severus himself had been inflicted a nightmare or two because of it.

The majority of his dreams, on the other hand, were of that damnable cave. How he was able to envision it during Claira's capture, without ever having known of its existence, remains a mystery. The fact of the matter was that it still haunted him. Again and again he was visited with the phantasm of Claira's death, his person struggling against unbreakable bonds to save her from the wrath of Lord Voldemort. Often times they awoke together, screaming in the night.

It would take time to heal, but at least they had each other to fall back upon. And that, by itself, was a comfort more potent than any potion he could brew.

He relaxed his head back onto his pillow, pulling Claira down with him. Their bodies intuitively entwined.

"And what about you, my dear?" Severus spoke after a moment of blissful silence. "Anxious about tomorrow?"

Her fingers strummed through the thick patch of hair on his chest. "Not anxious. No. Eager, perhaps." He felt her smile against his skin. "I want to hurry and get it over with before you change your mind."

His hand stroked her hair, while his other lifted her chin so that she would see the seriousness in his eyes, hear it in his voice, when he said, "There is nothing that you or anyone could do or say that would prevent me from taking you as my wife tomorrow. What else would you have me do, that I haven't already done, to finally convince you of it?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Do you honestly blame me, Severus? After all that we've gone through?"

"No," he whispered, a hint of coolness in his tone. "You're right. I haven't always been truthful with you. But if our marriage is to survive, you must learn to trust me. I don't expect an overnight fix, however a little show of faith would be appreciated."

"A little show of faith?" she repeated, sitting up. "And the fact that I've slept beside you every night (naked, mind you), says nothing of my commitment? We've hardly been apart since it happened."

Severus propped himself up on his elbow. "Then why must you still question me? I've done everything I can possibly think of to prove myself to you. Shall I slice off my ear next? Would a token of my devotion finally be enough?"

"That's just it, Severus. You won't let me alone long enough to even think for myself." She buried her face in her hands. "Your constant pampering is driving me mad."

He stiffened. "Is that so?"

"And another thing!" His fireplace suddenly burst alive with flames. "I don't want my underwear mixed in with yours. I want my own drawer."

His jaw went slack. "I beg your pardon? What do your panties have to do with anything?"

"Everything!" she cried. "I want my own dresser – my own wardrobe – my own space!"

"I thought you might have appreciated sharing my things." His eyes narrowed. "I was attempting to be polite."

"Well, stop it!" She flung a pillow at him. "Stop trying to be nice. I want you to get angry with me sometimes. I want you to be selfish and irritable on occasion. For God's sake, act like…like… YOU!"

Claira grabbed another pillow, but before she could hit him with it he captured her wrists and forced her down onto the mattress. And then he gave her a crushing kiss, long and demanding. He growled into her mouth, tightening his grip on her wrists, pushing her legs apart with his knees. She could feel his erection, engorged and hard, against her entrance.

"Is this what you want?" he hissed, entering her in a single thrust, filling her to the hilt.

His eyes were enflamed with a frightening mixture of rage, frustration and lust. Claira smiled, "Yes – this is exactly what I want."

Another growl rumbled in his throat as he took her. His strokes were selfish, dominating as he ground her into the mattress. His grunts were animal-like, as if he were a caged beast suddenly set free. Claira welcomed the sound as it vibrated through her, summoning strange noises of her own. She wanted to feel him lose control. Although the new, sensitive, caring Severus was wonderful, she needed the strong, determined, independent Severus as well.

She dug her nails into his back, causing him to shout out. "I don't want you to treat me like a child anymore. Let me take care of myself."

He grabbed her thighs and coached her thrusts to meet his. "You certainly are no child, Miss Bell – or shall I say, soon-to-be Mrs. Snape?"

"Mm, I like the sound of that," she moaned, arching her back. "Claira Madison Snape."

He lowered his body down and collected her in his arms, his hips taking swift, hard plunges between her legs. "Yes…Mmm…that does have a certain ring to it." His eyes watched her breasts bounce and dance to his rhythm, her nipples scrapping his chest. "Wrap your legs around me as tightly as you can… that's it. Good Merlin!"

He threw his head back with a loud grunt, and then he began to pound into her with wild abandon. Within moments he reached climax, spilling his warm seed deep inside her.

Their eyes met, and he smirked. "Thank you, Claira. I think I needed that."

"You've been holding back," she whispered, stroking his face.

He closed his eyes and kissed her palm. "I suppose I have been. I was just trying to… I only wanted to meet your expectations as the perfect husband. Merlin knows I make a rubbish boyfriend."

"I don't want a perfect husband," she chuckled. " I want you - you and all your perfect flaws (even the not so wonderful ones). That's who I fell in love with."

He slid onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. "That seems reasonable. And I'll ask you to speak up sooner if you feel uncomfortable, or dare I say smothered, by my affections."

"Deal," she grinned, kissing his lips softly.

He kissed her temple and doused the flames in the fireplace.

"Get some rest. We'll most likely need our strength." He raised an eyebrow at her. "And Claira?"

"Hm?" she yawned, her eyelids heavy.

He tugged the covers up over her shoulders. "Next time we have a tiff, do try not to set the room on fire."

**To be continued...**


	49. The End of the Beginning, Part Three

Note to readers: I didn't realize until just now, almost three years later, that I never posted the final chapter! A lot has happened and changed in my life, but this story remains a huge part of my past. Thank you all who have followed the journey with me.

Chapter: 48

The End of the Beginning (Part 3)

There was no sunlight in the dungeons and Severus had yet to open his eyes, but he knew that outside the castle a new day was dawning. His stomach twisted into knots despite having told Claira he would be immune to what many people described as "wedding day jitters." There was no doubt in his mind about his decision to take Claira as his wife; his heart had declared it a necessity, non-negotiable. The feeling stemmed from a much deeper root. He had not allowed himself to realize all the sacrifices involved in a marriage, but in that moment he was forced to accept that his independence was at an end. In just a few hours he would begin a new life where the word "I" became "we" and nearly every decision would be based on what was best for he _and_ Claira.

The only way to calm the panic was to consider the benefits of that sacrifice. He would gain a lifelong companion, someone who cared for and cherished his life above all others. He would also secure a bed partner, a body always willing and committed to his needs and pleasures. It was a selfish way of thinking, but it was enough to settle his mind as an even trade.

Stretching his arm out to where Claira lay, he was not surprised to find that she had gone. She was a young woman nurtured on values and tradition. It would be a crime against social graces for a groom to see his bride before the wedding. Silly as it was, he would honor her wishes. So he turned his attention to bathing and breakfast, and then to preparing his attirement.

The entrance hall was empty and silent which was common for a summer morning; the school was out of term and only selects staff resided at the castle. However, the atmosphere was quite different in the Great Hall. The room was abuzz with laughter and chatter; wedding decorations were strewn about; ribbons, lace, silly girlish ornaments hung about the walls or were placed in rows on the floor for future décor. Severus felt as though he had just walked into a winter wonderland. Everything was either white or silver, and what was not were the bouquets of flowers or the people dressed in formal attire. Many of these people, Severus noted, were unfamiliar to him. Most likely Claira's lot, he thought.

Just as quickly as he had arrived, Severus withdrew to the quiet of his chambers. He decided he would have his breakfast brought to him, rather than deal with his soon to be in-laws. It was with luck that he was able to escape without being detected. The ceremony would begin at noon, with a reception in the Great Hall afterward; from there, he and Claira would apparate to his manor in Ravenscar. For the moment, he was content to keep to himself until it was absolutely necessary to do otherwise.

Claira, in the meantime, spent the morning in her room, surrounded by giggling women and an eager-to-please house elf named Pinky. Severus had summoned her to be at Claira's beck and call; she was, after all, soon to be mistress of Snape Manor. Madam Pomfrey sat on the bed giving suggestions while Pinky made adjustments to Claira's wedding dress. Her mother was busy fussing with her hair, and her sister, Jenny, had her nose pressed to the window, observing the castle grounds.

"Well, I think he's weird," she said matter-of-factly.

"Jenny - don't be rude," her mother scolded. She then smiled down at Claira. "I think Severus is a fine man."

Claira smiled. "Thank you, Mum. He really is wonderful once you get to know him."

Madam Pomfrey let out a loud snort.

She met Claira's gaze in the mirror, and smirked. "Well, he certainly is unique, isn't he? I never thought I'd see the day when Severus Snape tied the knot, but that just goes to show there are still miracles happening beyond the tips of our wands."

Claira's mother looked concerned. "How do you mean?"

"Nothing, Mum," Claira assured her, pulling a face at Poppy. "Madam Pomfrey is only teasing, isn't she? Poppy and Severus have a tendency of butting heads over the slightest issues."

"Dad hates him," her sister spouted.

"Jenny Marie Bell! That is quite enough," her mother warned. "One more ill word from you and you'll be spending reception locked up in this room. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mum," she mumbled.

Claira frowned. "Severus told me he had gone to the house looking for me. He didn't repeat the conversation, but I got the impression he and Dad didn't part on friendly terms."

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Your father doesn't hate Severus, Claira. You have to keep in mind they were both worried out of their wits about you. They got into a little argument, but I don't think it was enough to sever all chances of a relationship. Besides, you know how protective your father is; I don't think there is a single man on earth who could meet his standards."

Claira smiled meekly, pressing her cheek to her mother's hand.

"Don't you worry," she said in a soft voice. "It will all work itself out, you'll see. Men just need time to adjust to one another. The male species hasn't changed much in the last few thousand years, I'm afraid."

"I suppose not," Claira laughed.

There was a sudden knock at the door.

"No men allowed!" Poppy barked.

"It's only me," Minerva answered. "The corridor is clear. I'm coming in."

Her face lit up when she saw Claira. "You look lovely, dear. Simply charming."

"Thank you, Minerva," Claira replied, her heart beginning to flutter in her chest. "Is it time already?"

"Indeed. Everyone is seated and waiting by the lake."

Claira's face reddened. "Is… is Severus there too?"

All eyes were glued to Minerva.

"Of course he is," Minerva grinned. "And if I might add, I've never seen him looking so pale. He arrived a bit prematurely and has been standing at the front of the aisle for quite some time now. He's been holding up rather well, but you might not want to make him wait too much longer. It's not uncommon for a groom to faint or be sick all over himself under such pressure."

Outside, the lakeside had been decorated for the ceremony. Professor Flitwick had conjured a charming garden around the altar and seating arrangements, his magical vines and flowers twisting and climbing upwards to create a sort of dome. They had agreed on a modest wedding, preferring to keep a low profile amongst the hype of the final battle. The castle was altered to refuse entrance to reporters and other media hounds, as Severus and Claira's participation in the defeat of the Dark Lord had made them prime targets of magazines and various newspapers around the world.

Severus stood handsomely tall in front of the large stone altar, awaiting Claira's arrival. His robes were based on traditional wedding garb, with a hint of modern fashion skillfully woven throughout. He was easily the most well dressed man in Scotland.

"I wouldn't be you for all the gold or women in the world," Jacob muttered. "I've never seen so many eyes on one man – and that father, he's got daggers for you, brother."

"Really, Jacob?" Severus growled, fixing his cuffs for the umpteenth time. "I hadn't noticed."

"As your best man, I felt it only necessary to warn you." His tone suddenly turned serious. "Listen, Severus, I know now might not be the most appropriate time, but I wanted to thank you for coming to mother's funeral. I know the two of you never saw eye to eye on anything and, well, I thought it was quite honorable of you."

Severus stiffened. "I only attended to save face."

"Even so," he said, casting his eyes on the ground. "She kept her illness hidden well, you know – so well not even I realized until the very end. I suppose now we know why she was so belligerent with you over the holidays… Of course by now you realize that Snape Manor and the vaults were all turned over into my possession as sole proprietor the moment you made your engagement with Claira? It was set in mother's will that it be done if you were to propose to any woman who was not of pure blood, among many other stipulations."

Severus clenched his fists. "You were correct in your first assessment, Jacob. Now is not the appropriate time for this discussion." He paused. "I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions. I would not have asked Claira to marry me otherwise."

Jacob cleared his throat. "I simply can not comprehend how you would willingly give up your livelihood. I mean, Claira is a lovely girl and all, but we both know you can't uphold your estate and expenses on a professor's salary."

Severus's eyes were set on the castle entrance, on a slender figure in a white dress making her way down the steps and towards the lake. "I don't give a damn about the inheritance, Jacob. So if you are attempting to dissuade me from taking Claira as my wife today, then you can fuck off. You are only here because Claira invited you."

Jacob shook his head, and chuckled, "My dear brother, I wasn't trying to dissuade you. Good heavens no, I'd like to leave here with my bollocks still intact, thank you. I was, however, attempting to give you my wedding gift."

Severus cocked his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth upturning at the sight of Claira nearing the edge of the lake. He could feel her eyes on him through her white veil. His heart began to pound in his chest.

He could scarcely hear his brother's voice in his ear. "Severus, this morning I had vaults four hundred thirty-three and four hundred thirty-four transferred back into your possession. You see, I didn't agree with Mother's decision, so I reinstated the inheritance, as well as the deed on the manor. You are free to sell it as you had planned. However, with your permission I'd like to stay there until my estate in France is completed."

Severus tore his eyes from Claira to look at Jacob, disbelieving what he had heard. "You did what?"

Jacob grinned. "Congratulations, Severus. I wish you and Claira the best, and all that other sentimental codswallop one is supposed to say. Now go get married you miserable bastard."

He shook Severus's hand and took a few steps back, just as the wedding march began to play. Poppy and Minerva made their way up the aisle. Claira's sister rushed up behind them, red-faced and tossing flower petals in her wake.

Severus turned his attention back to Claira, feeling as if a great weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. He had not expected such a generous, selfless act from his younger brother. Moreover one year ago, he would not have expected to be standing in front of an altar, awaiting his bride as her father walked her down the aisle towards him. His eyes swept over her, tracing her movements with adoration. She looked so graceful, like a swan gliding across the water on a still, bright morning. The sun touched her skin just so that she almost glowed.

A sigh escaped his lips.

She now stood before him, her arm in her father's.

"Who gives this charming young woman to this man?" came the gentle voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Severus locked eyes with Claira's father. There was a moment's pause.

"Her mother and I," he said, lifting Claira's veil.

As Claira's father handed her to him, he leant forward and spoke in a low, earnest tone. "I love my daughter, sir. So help me if you ever hurt her I'll – "

"I will never give you a need to finish that sentence," Severus whispered, taking Claira by the hand. "You have my word."

His eyes then fell on Claira's face as they turned towards the altar. His breath caught in his throat. Her hand squeezed his and she smiled, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Welcome, dear friends. We are met here today to witness the joyous celebration of love between these two, Severus and Claira, and support them in their decision to unite in marriage."

His gaze fell upon the two, warmth and delight in his eyes. "You stand before this company seeking to become one with each other. You are aware of the reality of the vows you are about to speak to one another. If either of you, or anyone present here today, know of any reason why these vows should not be made, I charge you to voice it now."

Severus glared over his shoulder at the people seated.

Dumbledore paused a moment before adding, "However, I would not recommend it, unless one wishes to die a most horrible death."

Laughter broke the silence. Severus returned his attention to the altar, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Severus Snape, will you take this woman to be your partner and mate, to live together in marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her, keep her safe and well for as long as time may last?"

"I will," Severus replied, his eyes set on Dumbledore's.

Albus nodded, "Then you may declare your vows unto she."

Severus turned to Claira, taking her hand in his. Moving closer, he lifted his other hand to her cheek. "My love, now do I make my promises to you. To you, Claira, I promise my life, my heart, and my love, all that I have and will have. To you I promise to be faithful, truthful, gentle and compassionate, at all times, for better or for worse. I promise to love and cherish you, to keep you, for as long as I live and breathe. This I vow to you."

His thumb brushed away her tears, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Behind them, as few women sobbed quietly.

"So mote it be." Albus waved his hand, sealing the vows. "Claira Madison Bell, will you take this man to be your partner and mate, to live together in marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor him, keep him safe and well for as long as time may last?"

"I will," said Claira, struggling to speak through tears and shivers.

Albus smiled, "Then you may declare your vows unto he."

She looked into Severus's eyes, as they were all that she could see, and they were all that mattered in that moment. "Severus, I love you with all my heart. To you I promise to never stop loving you, through the good and the bad, sickness and in health. I promise to be faithful and honest, to cherish you and honor you as my husband. You are my best friend and my soul mate, and to you I give myself: my heart, body and mind. This I vow to you."

"So mote it be," Albus chanted. "Now, the rings please."

All attention fell upon Jacob, who stood staring back at Severus and Claira stupidly. Severus's jaw tightened. "The rings, Jacob."

Jacob shook his head. "The rings? Oh the rings! Good Merlin. Yes, the best man holds the rings." He began patting himself down, checking his pockets. "I had them a moment ago – I thought."

Severus's expression darkened. "Where are the bloody rings, Jacob?"

Jacob looked back at him, panic stricken.

"Pinky has them, sir." Behind them stood Pinky, holding a tiny pillow. She wore a frilly, pink dress sewn from the same material. Claira grinned, knowing Pinky had made them herself. "Here is the rings, sir."

"Thank you," said Albus kindly, summoning them to the altar. By Air, Fire, Water, and by Earth do I bless and consecrate these rings. These rings, a token of your love for one another, serve as a reminder that all in life is a cycle; all comes to pass and passes away and comes to pass again."

He then set them to float.

"Air is at the beginning of all things, the breath of life; the dawning of a new day. May your lives through the reminder of these rings be blessed with continuing renewal of love."

He waved his wand over the rings, spinning them with the bending of wind.

"Fire is the passion within your hearts, the spark of love itself, the heat of anger, and the warmth of compassion. May your lives through the reminder of these rings be blessed with continual warmth."

Another wave of his wand set the rings ablaze, and then doused them, allowing the smoke to circle and encompass them.

"Water nourishes and replenishes us; the waters of emotion and harmony pour vitality into our lives. May your lives through the reminder of these rings be blessed with fulfillment and contentment."

Tapping the rim of a silver goblet on the altar, he lifted the water so that it wrapped around the rings, washing away the smoke.

"All life springs from the earth and returns to the earth. May your lives through the reminder of these rings be blessed with strength and solidity."

From the ground he spun a tiny whirlwind, which rose up to the rings and then back down again. "You may now offer the ring unto Claira, and Claira unto Severus."

Severus plucked her ring from mid air and tenderly, lovingly, slipped it onto her finger. Claira did the same, and then they both turned back to Albus.

"By the exchange of these tokens of your love for one another, so are your lives interlaced. Pleasure, pain, creation, destruction, giving and receiving are all within the power of your hand. Let these rings remind you of the many turns through which you and your love shall pass, and may everything that is touched by your hand be touched also by love. So Mote It Be."

The rings glowed and then dissipated.

"Let it be acknowledged that Severus and Claira have also requested that their vows be bound in the ancient tradition." He held up a long cord wound in ribbons of various colors, each symbolizing a different facet of magic. "Severus, Claira, if you will please join hands."

As they did, their fingers entwined, palms against palms. Severus gave hers a gentle squeeze before Albus tied the cord around their wrists.

"As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound to one another. This cord thus binds you to your vows. Together you shall be strong in love, life, and happiness. May this knot remain tied for as long as time shall last. So mote it be."

Severus felt the magic swell from deep within his chest, move throughout his body and out of his hands, his fingers, and mesh with the glow of Claira's magic. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as though he could feel himself inside of Claira, and she inside of him, their magic entwined as one. He held fast to her hands, closing his eyes, absorbing her essence. She breathed his breaths, thought his thoughts, so that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

And then it was gone.

"In your sight have these two promised themselves to one another, made vows before you, and bound themselves unto each other. Let us bless them in their new life together." He cast his eyes down upon them. "By the power of your love, Severus and Claira, I do pronounce you Husband and Wife."

A cool wind swept over the lake, silent and powerful. It twisted and whipped around them.

Albus lifted his eyebrow. "Severus, you may kiss your bride."

Severus swiftly took Claira's mouth in his, freeing the cord wound around their wrists to cup her face in his hands. The sound of clapping tickled his ears. Cheers and hollers echoed the castle grounds, spooking birds into flight above the forbidden forest. When the kiss ended, they both smiled against each other's lips.

"Ladies and gentleman, witches and wizards… all creatures within earshot," Albus mused, lifting his hand towards the pair. "I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Severus and Claira Snape."

More hoots and applause ensued, in addition to a shower of rice and flower petals. Together they walked hand in hand through all the fuss towards the castle. A reception was to be had in the Great Hall. By nightfall, they would be happily alone at Severus's manor, where they would spend their first night together as a married couple.

They had decided to remain on staff at Hogwarts, living together in Severus's quarters during the week, and his manor on the weekends and holidays; Severus had planned to stay for five more years, at the end of which he would retire and begin a business of his own, developing new, revolutionary potions at his fancy. Claira was still young and infatuated with Hogwarts, and would continue to work at the castle for as long as it pleased her.

At least, that was the plan, but as we all know life cannot be predicted, or mapped out. Life is ever changing; time can never be determined or controlled. Severus and Claira would have many more adventures, face many more hardships and obstacles, have their love tested time and time again.

But that's another story.

Complete.


	50. The Potion-Maker's Apprentice

Many years have passed since I first began writing fanfiction. I will always treasure those years spent learning and growing as a writer. When I finally completed Cauldrons Aflame, I promised myself I would try my hand at writing an original piece, something that could be published. I have finished my first book titled: The Potion-Maker's Apprentice. My love for Severus Snape has not weakened over time, and has continued to be my source of inspiration. I decided to make my first book based in the same genre and fantasy world, with my main character Uric Black driven by my passion for a brooding, ill-tempered leading man. The world and characters are all original; however, you will see a strong influence from my personal interpretation of Severus Snape and the world of Harry Potter. This book is written for fans who crave an adult fantasy laced with romance and adventure. I now write under the name Janette S. Wilson.

Below I have posted the first two chapters of "The Potion-Maker's Apprentice" for you to read. You can find a full copy available for Kindle on here: The-Potion-Makers-Apprentice-ebook/dp/B009Y7FMT4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1351476057&sr=1-1&keywords=the+potion-maker%27s+apprentice.

Or you can find a paperback copy on Amazon here: The-Potion-Makers-Apprentice-Janette-Wilson/dp/147766419X/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1351476057&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=the+potion-maker%27s+apprentice.

Here is the summary:

Almost ten years have passed since the dark wizard Demongore was defeated and imprisoned within the deep bowels of Eternal Mountain by the opposing Warlocks. Uric Black, a trained warrior and master potion-maker for the Warlocks, now finds himself trapped in the humdrum life of an Alchemy Professor at Spellbinder University for Magical Arts. That is, until the day he is made to take under his wing a young female apprentice named Rowan Blaze.

Rowan Blaze had no idea what she was in for when she received her acceptance letter from the elusive, quick-tempered Professor. He was determined to be rid of her from the moment she set foot in his classroom. What had begun as an ill-matched apprenticeship explodes into a world of danger, adventure and growing passion after Rowan discovers the Professor's secret life as a Warlock. When Demongore's followers unleash a devious plot to free the dark wizard from his confines, the Warlocks once again must unite to uphold the balance of magic. Rowan and the Professor find themselves entangled in the center of it all. Together they must brew an antidote to the danger which threatens the magical world.

* * *

Chapter One:

Misfire

The Professor sat beneath the golden hue of candlelight, trying to stir up interest in a small stack of parchments splayed across his desk. Next to them sat a half empty bottle of Dragon Spirit. Boredom was a cruel affliction. His fingers traced over a silver medallion that he kept beside his inkwell. Embossed on the surface was the depiction of a serpent impaled on the horn of a majestic unicorn. His life had not always been this mundane. He had once been a prestigious warrior in the thralls of war; a Warlock, a soldier of resistance who fought against the evil sorcerers that sought to upset the balance between all things magical and all things that were not. It had been a life of danger, secrecy and battle all mixed into one smoldering brew of adventure. But the war had been won. The powerful necromancer Demongore had been defeated and imprisoned in the bowels of Eternal Mountain, a hold kept by fierce guardians and enslaved dragons. The Professor felt that his usefulness had faded to memory and was smothered beneath the garb of teaching robes.

His gaze fell back upon the scrolls. He scowled at the adjacent pile of apprenticeship applications. He was indeed a master of potions, perhaps the greatest of his era, and he was often sought after for his services. However, over the years he had also earned a reputation for being an ill-tempered recluse. The fact that he had any applicants for the newly created post as his trainee potions assistant was astounding.

He, of course, saw no need for an assistant and even less desire to share the secrets and knowledge of his craft to the person who would work with him. Mimicking textbook rubbish to a classroom of lazy students was merely a way to earn a living. But, to reveal his life's work to a greedy neophyte, to expose his most intricate research and brews, was something he vowed never to do. That is, until the Chancellor of the University demanded it of him. He had been coerced into accepting a fledging else lose his job. At forty-five years of age, what had he become but a whisper of his glory days?

He brought the bottle of Dragon Spirit to his lips. His eyes closed as the liquid bled down his throat and doused his memories. After a few more swigs, he slapped his hand down upon the applications. He tousled them about. Sneering, he selected one at random and scrawled his approval. What did it matter to read them through? Whoever was chosen was bound to be a nuisance.

As the night wore on his thoughts became a blur. His eyelids drooped under the influence of drink. The last words he scratched with his frayed, vulture-feather quill on the letter of acceptance to the applicant were:

_Uric Black_

_Professor of Alchemy, Spellbinder University of Magical Arts  
_

Thunder roared, yet the night sky was as still and calm as a placid lake. It was not the sound of a weather storm brewing, but that of a great battle commencing just beyond the cusp of the ridge. Flashing lights colored the sky. Screams and war cries echoed the marsh like rain thrashing against a mountain. He had arrived late. Scrambling over the hill, he withdrew his wand of hawthorn. He gazed across the battlefield. Many of his fellow Warlocks had fallen. A thin fog crawled over their slain bodies. Magical curses were hurled through the air, felling both allies and foes. And then he saw it. Amidst the carnage he spotted the entrance to the abandoned mine shaft. Inside of it would be Demongore, searching for yet another powerful magical artifact that he could use for his evil plans of world domination. Reaching into his coat pocket, Uric's fingers clasped a tiny vial which he withdrew. He drank the contents in one swift gulp. The invisibility draught took instant effect.

He had to use caution on the battlefield, deflecting stray curses as he made his way to the entrance of the mine shaft. His plan was to catch Demongore off guard and kill him where he stood. What he sought was revenge for the death of his fiancé who was killed by the Silvermask, Demongore's followers, just days before. His heart still felt like a gaping wound. He had already taken the lives of the men who were involved, but it was Demongore who had sent them. It was he that would suffer the greatest.

Although his sight was set on the mine shaft, he helped where he could with the fighting, striking down foes that were overpowering his fellow Warlocks. When he reached the entrance, he ducked inside and followed the floating lanterns. To his luck, Demongore was on his way out, holding a small golden box in his muddy hands. His eyes glowed from a spell that granted him vision in the dark. He wore dark burgundy robes that hung from his tall, gangly stature. His dreadlocks spread over his shoulders like a cluster of snakes. He was without his usual arsenal of bodyguards.

Uric drew the magic from his breast and aimed at the necromancer, rage overpowering his previous strategy to map the tunnels before making an attack. In that moment all he could think of was Lydia. He could end it all now, all the pain and suffering, and all the countless deaths brought about by Demongore's deranged ambition.

However, before the curse could escape his lips, muddy water from the old wooden planks above that reinforced the roof of the mine shaft seeped down onto his shoulder. He could feel the magic dissipate around him. The invisibility potion had been dispelled, revealing his solidified body. A grin stretched Demongore's gaunt face.

Six masked men were suddenly upon him, shouting his name and hurling hexes at his chest. He shielded himself the best he could but, as skilled as he was, not even he could deflect them all. He hit the ground with a painful thud, unable to move his limbs. Warm blood spilled from his left temple down into his ear canal. They towered over him as his vision slipped away. He heard familiar cries in the distance. He felt his own cry swell in his throat, and expelled it in anger at his failure.

Whatever was nested in that golden box, however powerful or not, could not be allowed in the hands of the enemy. If Demongore was interested in it, then it must hold some magic that could be used as a weapon, for the evil necromancer only knew death and destruction. Malevolent laughter swarmed the marsh, a high pitched cackle that chilled even the fiercest heart. The fog stretched around his body like taut bands, squeezing the air out of his lungs. The laughter grew louder and louder as the darkness overtook him.

Uric awoke with a start. The battlefield had vanished, and in its place was his small dusky chamber lined with wooden bookshelves. Dark velvet curtains were drawn closed over the windows. A caged, sooty raven cawed merciless in the corner. Thin beams of sunlight peeked through the crevices hinting that it was morning.

Black liquid from his inkwell dripped from his temple onto his pillow of parchments. He swore at the mess while wiping his face clean with a handkerchief. Glaring at the hourglass, he stood from his desk and stumbled out of his study. He was in dire need of a headache remedy. Had the University been in term, he would have slept through his first lecture of the day.

In the days that followed, he could not ignore the irksome memory that he had selected his would-be assistant at random and in a state of irritable drunkenness. Therefore, he supposed it would be prudent to at least read through her application and qualifications before her arrival. His long, nimble fingers sifted through the applications he had deposited in the bottom drawer of his desk, until he spotted the name Rowan Blaze. He withdrew the attached parchments and read through what she had written.

When he finished, he rubbed his temples. In hindsight, he would have chosen a male apprentice. A female was a migraine waiting to happen, with her emotional baggage and delicate feelings. He had little patience for a woman's irrationalities. He tucked the application back inside the desk drawer.

Perhaps it would work in his favor. His short temper and knack for insults, which he had polished over the years, would have her fleeing back to the States soon enough.

As it was, two weeks remained before the students returned from summer holiday. That gave him two weeks to prepare for the arrival of his apprentice. Chancellor Grimbold may have ordered him to accept an applicant, but the Chancellor did not say that he had to keep that applicant. The old grey-bearded man was wise and cunning, but not as cunning as he. With any luck, and a little bit of help from himself, the neophyte would be running back home to mummy and daddy within the first week.

* * *

Chapter Two:

Scent of Cinder

The wheels of the bus began to slow as it neared a small, obscure station on the northern coast of Wales. Rowan pressed her aching forehead to the glass when it came to a rough, abrupt stop. It had been a long journey from the States, switching between various planes, trains and buses over the course of several days. Foresight was her friend as she downed her fourth vial of motion sickness remedy. She would have preferred to travel by magic; however her luggage had prevented her from doing so. She still had a few more years of training before she would be able to energy travel, or 'shimmer' as they called it, over a distance with the additional weight.

It was nightfall when she stepped out onto the timeworn station, located in a remote area of the Llyn Peninsula. A brisk, damp wind swept through her unkempt hair. Rowan pulled her coat tighter to stifle the cold. She splashed through small puddles to retrieve her luggage. Only a handful of passengers exited the bus, and even less waited to get on it.

Rowan soon found herself alone on the outskirt of the bus station. She stared out into the darkness, wondering when her escort to the University might arrive, hoping she had not been forgotten. It was her first visit to Wales, and she had not been given further instructions past the bus station. Rowan could hear invisible waves crashing against jagged cliffs somewhere nearby. Her life of late felt like those waves, splashing around in a restless sea. And everywhere she turned there was a wall of stone, blocking her from reaching the shore.

Her love for alchemy had been realized at an early age. She worked hard to be the best, graduating with top marks in the field of study. But in order for her to earn the title of master and make a career out of it, she had to serve an apprenticeship, for only a master alchemist could give her that master title. Oh how she wanted it. More than she had ever wanted anything. However, it was proving more difficult than she could have imagined. With three failed apprenticeships under her belt, Professor Black might just be her last hope.

A faint bell tolled in the distance. She counted nine chimes before it fell silent. Moments later, the distinct sound of hoof beats cantered up a winding, narrow road beside the station. She watched the light of a small lantern bob up and down, growing in radiance as it neared.

A large brown shire horse came into view beneath the lamppost, pulling an antiquated carriage. A portly man donning a dark raincoat sat coach, the slick reigns wrapped around his plump hands.

He tilted his hat toward her. "Miss Blaze, I assume?"

Rowan nodded her head.

He tapped on the door of the wagon with his wooden staff. The hinges creaked as it sprung open. Her luggage was pulled out of her hands by an unseen force and flew into the carriage.

"The name's Wallace Hobbs," he said, eyeing her from beneath the brim of his hat. "The Chancellor sent me to escort you to the University."

He held out his hand to help her climb into the wooden seat beside him.

Rowan hesitated before accepting his hand. She had not anticipated this mode of transportation. It was her first time on a carriage, and it might have been charming if not for the sudden jolt that set her insides churning when the wooden wheels began to roll over the rocky, uneven terrain.

"Is this how the students travel to the University at the start of term?" she wondered aloud.

The man laughed, "Nah, this here is the Chancellor's carriage. He and the misses like to tour the countryside from time to time."

"Is it far to the University," she asked, digging in her coat pocket for another vial of remedy.

"No, it's just over the ridge."

The carriage passed through a wooded field. Beyond the trees loomed the immense silhouette of the University, almost castle-like in appearance with its high stone walls and pointed turrets.

"How has the University managed to stay secret all this time? It's not exactly hidden is it?" Rowan observed.

The carriage passed over a short arched bridge.

"The land is surrounded by wards to keep the non-magic folk away. Deterrents, if you will. When any of them get too near, they suddenly forget why they had come and turn away. You know memory modifiers and the like? If any do come close enough, all they see is a rundown, abandoned church."

Rowan closed her eyes and indeed could feel the powerful enchantments encircling the University.

"So what is it that you do here, Mr. Hobbs?" she asked, as the carriage approached the main entrance.

"Oh I fix the broke and make sure the working keeps on working. Some call me the Tinker, but you can call me the maintenance specialist, if you prefer."

Her eyes fixed on a large marble fountain with the statue of a magnificent griffin perched on top, water spewing from its beak. Beyond it she could just make out the hedges of a garden.

"How do the students make it to the school?" she asked.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of two massive wooden doors.

"They drive here in cars mostly," he grinned. "There is a parking lot around back. We are not as outdated as you might think. Of course the magic interferes with the electronics like mobile phones and laptops, but there is a hall in the west wing that is partitioned off for computer use. The internet is limited to research and is monitored at all times by our head of security. We can't have the students flapping their mouths about the place."

The doors to the University swung open and there stood a short, aged man dressed in brown trousers and an embroidered vest. He was balding on top, but his long, grey beard wagged in the breeze as he walked down the stone steps. He reminded her very much of the ceramic gnomes her mother kept in the garden back home. He waved at Rowan as she climbed down from the carriage. She reached back in for her luggage.

"No need, Miss. I'll see these to your room," Wallace assured her, clucking at the horse.

The carriage began to pull away.

Rowan waved him goodbye. "Thank you, Mr. Hobbs."

Wallace nodded, giving her another tip of his hat.

"Ah, Miss Blaze, glad you could make it." The old wizard welcomed her with an extended hand. "I am Chancellor Titus Grimbold, but you may call me Titus, or simply Chancellor, if you like."

Rowan took his hand. "It is nice to meet you, Chancellor. I appreciate all the arrangements you have made for my arrival. I feel very welcome here."

"Excellent," he smiled, giving her hand a tender squeeze. "It's always good to see a new face at the University. If you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask."

He led her into the University. The doors closed shut behind them with a soft clap. The view stretched out into an open lawn lined with hedges, sprinkled with shady trees and benches. Torches hung on the surrounding walls, casting a warm glow over the freshly mown grass. Tall white columns hugged the zigzagging walkways and spans. Rowan followed the Chancellor down one of them into an entrance hall.

An enormous fireplace lit the impressive hall, bouncing light off the multiple staircases and doors. She could tell the University was almost ancient, but had been modernized over the centuries with newer décor and refurbished floors. It still smelled of old books and musty linens.

"I believe Professor Black is waiting for you in his study." His voice echoed the hall. "I will introduce you to him before I retire for the night."

They took the staircase to the right. It spiraled upwards several floors. Rowan had to jog to keep up with the nimble old man, her legs aching by the time they reached a hallway that bridged another set of buildings.

At last they came to a knotted mahogany door with a long steel handle. The Chancellor tugged it open and ushered her inside. They stepped into a circular chamber with wooden tables and chairs that rose from the floor to the ceiling like a mini stadium. At the head of the room was a teaching desk, large swiveling blackboard, and a pedestal holding a large cauldron.

"Please wait here," the Chancellor told her in a soft voice.

He disappeared behind another door on the opposite side of the chamber. He reappeared a few moments later, looking grim.

"The Professor will be out to see you momentarily. He may seem a bit harsh at first. Please do not take offense. It is simply his nature." He stroked his beard, looking up at her with kind hazel eyes. "But I think he will warm up to you with time. I must now leave you in his care. Good night, Miss Blaze."

Rowan smiled. "Goodnight."

As he closed the door behind him, he said, "And, ah, good luck."

Rowan frowned after the door shut with a soft thud. She had hoped this one would be different from the other mentors she had studied under, or rather had attempted to study under. Professor Black would be her fourth alchemy master. With the other ones, well, there had been various complications and incompatibilities, as she liked to call them. Therefore, she had decided to part ways with all of them.

Several minutes passed with no sign of the Professor. She began to wonder if he was going to ignore her all night. Glancing around the chamber again, she walked over to a bookshelf and perused the various titles. Most of them were worn text books and alchemic study guides.

Her eyes drifted to an old, leather bound book that had been set down on top of the bookshelf rather than tucked inside with the others. Rowan lifted it carefully from the shelf. She gasped at the title "The Alchemist Theory: A Master's Guide to Theoretical Practices" by Theobald Laflamme.

She cracked open the book. Her hungry eyes scanned the pages, her heart fluttering at the handwritten script. Rowan could not believe she was holding such a priceless relic. Theobald Laflamme! He was perhaps the most accomplished alchemist in the world. His writings were sacred knowledge to the serious student of ancient theory.

"Good evening." Came a deep voice from behind her that sounded more like a soft rumble of thunder.

Rowan startled and fumbled the book, catching it just before it hit the ground.

As she spun around, her eyes caught on a pair of leather boots. They traveled up long, black trousers to a tower of square vest buttons that reached the hilt of his neck, and up even further to a pair of piercing green eyes.

She gaped at the height of him, easily towering over her by a foot. He was shrouded in black; even the thin, trimmed beard that hugged his lean face and curtain of hair that brushed his shoulders. His energy extruded power and self-awareness. He was an intimidating entity at first glance.

She looked away, her eyes settling on the book in her hands.

"Theobald Laflamme," she said, holding the book up for him to see. "There are only five copies of this title in the world and you happen to own one of them – which I almost dropped on the floor. Forgive me."

Her shoulders shrank as she turned to set it back down on top of the book shelf. "I am impressed that you allow your students to interact with it. I would love to borrow it some time."

"No, hand it here," he ordered, stretching out his hand. "It was not meant for display in the classroom. I had set it there earlier in the week. I'd almost forgotten about it."

She grudgingly passed it over to him, not wanting to part with it. Her gaze lingered on the book. "I'm Rowan by the way. Your new apprentice."

She held out her hand for him to shake.

"I assumed as much," he scowled, ignoring her gesture. "You are the only visitor that I have received this evening. It was rather obvious."

Rowan pursed her lips.

"Tell me," he said, tucking the book behind his back. "How is it that you have managed to flunk three apprenticeships within a single year? And all of those apprenticeships were with highly regarded names in the field. Professor Collier, for example?"

Rowan searched for the right words but before she could explain, he went on:

"I have done my research on you, Miss Blaze. Your credentials appear impressive on paper, and here you stand desperate for yet another willing mentor. Or perhaps you are simply not a people person? Please enlighten me."

Rowan took a deep, calming breath. "I was not discharged, if that is what you are implying. I simply acted on my best interest. Professor Collier's contributions to alchemy have always had my upmost respect, until I studied under him and discovered that his work was a concoction of plagiarisms. He was riding on the backs of his students' discoveries."

"That is a rather bold accusation," said the Professor in a dark tone. However his expression was not one of surprise, as she might have expected. "And Professor Drum?"

Rowan's lip curled. "I do not like people touching my notebook, especially people who think they have a right to copy it. It contains my personal works. I caught Professor Drum performing a duplicating spell on it one evening – and to save you the trouble of asking about Professor Hursting, he was more interested in my anatomy than sharing his knowledge of the craft."

He looked down at her from the end of his pointed nose. "Well, you may rest assured you won't encounter any of those particular problems under my tutelage."

Rowan was suddenly conscience of her tangled, frizzed hair. She had never taken interest or had felt the need for the goopy paste known as makeup, but in that moment she was uncomfortably aware of how the cold, damp weather might have affected her complexion.

She quickly dismissed the thoughts. Rowan was determined to see this apprenticeship through, and although their first meeting was not going as well as she had hoped, she was willing to make the effort. She would not be able to achieve master status without his endorsement. It was obvious that the man had an ill-tempered disposition, and he was certainly not the kindest man on the face of the planet, but perhaps he had something to offer her in the way of knowledge. Besides, she was there to learn not make friends.

Rowan straightened her shoulders. "Since my last apprenticeship, I have had time to do some research of my own. It was not easy finding your published works. But I did come across a few of your written articles in the Alchemist Journal. They were very impressive."

The Professor's expression remained unchanged. "I do not feel it necessary to plaster my private theories across the networking boards. It is my choice to keep my findings independent of public scrutiny, less the urge arises to correct an inconsistency in my field of study. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do before the start of term. I will show you to your room."

Rowan sighed as she followed him out the door. He led her down several winding corridors. She tried to remember the many turns from left to right, but soon lost count. They ended in front of an oak door. On it hung the number twenty-four carved in brass lettering.

"I expect you in my classroom tomorrow morning at seven-thirty for further instructions. My first lecture begins at eight sharp. I will not tolerate lateness. Should you fail to arrive on time you may spend the day elsewhere. Good evening."

Rowan spun around to reply but he had already slipped away into the shadows. She frowned entering her room. This was not going to be an enjoyable endeavor, she realized. It was her first night in a new country and an enchanting magical University, but already she wanted to leave. She had to steel herself. Alchemy was her passion and the only thing standing in her way from achieving her goals now was a grumpy, middle-aged professor.

Tucking her fingers into the inner pocket of her coat, she pulled out her apple wood wand and lit the fireplace with the wave of her hand.

The room was as she had anticipated, small and efficient. She had a cozy bed and night stand, a tall wardrobe, and a workbench. There was also an attached washroom with a porcelain sink and tub. A double-sided window gave a nice view of the garden when she opened it.

She stared out of it for a few moments, watching specks of light dance around the flowers, wondering if she might have just caught the Professor in a bad mood, and maybe he would be more agreeable in the morning. Her eyelids soon began to droop.

Her luggage had been set aside in the corner. On the nightstand she discovered a folded map of the school. She was relieved to have it. How else would she have found her way back to the Professor's crypt? Yes, he was just like Count Dracula, inhabiting some deep, dark place. She smiled, and wondered if perhaps humor might be her best ally to survive her stay at this University.


End file.
